


Of Seekers and Sorcerers

by LeisurelyPanda



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: But they breed like rabbits, F/F, F/M, M/M, Many Trevelyans, NaNoWriMo, Non Lavellan Elven Character, Oblivious main character, Slow Build, They're nice people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 06:51:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 56,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8964004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeisurelyPanda/pseuds/LeisurelyPanda
Summary: Harriet and Jason Trevelyan are twins who always knew that they would be given away to the Chantry. Until Jason suddenly manifests magical talent and their lives diverge.
Inspired by the story of the Gemini twins, heroes who perform incredible feats together, but are useless apart. What happens when they can work together harmoniously? Can they jointly lead the Inquisition and save Thedas? Or will their differences cause the fledgling organization to crash and burn?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction ever, so feedback is deeply appreciated.
> 
> Thanks to my tiny beta, wonker8, who pestered me into writing this for NaNoWriMO. 
> 
> This will be updated biweekly.

Harriet knew that House Trevelyan was a large one. Not as large as some of the other prominent families in the world, like the Pentagasts, but still, even as a girl of only nine years, she knew that she was part of one of the largest, if not the largest, families in the Free Marches. She was still too young to go with the rest of her family to her aunt’s regular Antivan operas, but still, she had met enough cousins and second cousins, and third cousins in her life. More than enough, really.

She sighed in frustration and fidgeted with her emerald green dress, as she watched the latest of her cousins be handled by the Revered Mother. It was her naming day, and Harriet was sure that this was yet another child whose name she would be bound to remember, even if she didn’t care about her at all. One day she would probably look down at this child and realize that she had once again forgotten her name, like she did with most of her cousins.

Harriet’s mother abruptly grabbed her hands and removed them from her dress. 

“Harriet,” she hissed, “stop wrinkling your dress! It does not become a lady of your station. This is Orlesian silk and it’s much too fine for you to ruin it now!”

Harriet huffed and immediately bit back a retort under her mother’s imperious glare. She was neither the youngest, nor the oldest, nor the most headstrong of Lady Ambrose Trevelyan’s children, and certainly no match for the dignified woman. She had long ago mastered the art of keeping her children in line with all the ability and grace of a Templar matron, which she had been, in another life. It was widely known among the Trevelyan’s tutors and governesses that the quickest and most effective method for getting the Trevelyan bunch to mind themselves was to suggest that they speak to their mother.

Harriet settled with twirling her long, golden hair, which hung loose over her right shoulder. She wasn’t meant to sit still like this, listening to priests drone on and on about the virtues of the Chant of Light and Andraste’s teachings. Her gaze wandered, as it usually did, towards the Templars. Will that be me one day, she thought. Will I be forced to stand all day in a Chantry guarding old women from magelings and cutpurses? She wondered again whether her parents were punishing her by promising her to the Templar Order.

“It could be worse,” said a sudden voice next to her. She turned her head and grinned as her twin brother and partner in crime, Jason, sat smirking at her. “You could turn out to be a mage. Think of the shame you would bring on the family!”

She giggled. “Mother would never speak to me again,” she replied. As if on cue, their mother turned to glare at her twin children, as if quiet will alone would allow her to silence her unruly children. “At least you’ll be with me.” As soon as they had been born, Lord and Lady Trevelyan had promised them to join the Chantry’s Templar Order on their 10th birthday. Both Jason and Harriet had grown up knowing that eventually they would be sent away and that no amount of pleading or bargaining would prevent that. Harriet had thrown a tantrum when she found out, demanding that she remain.

Jason grinned, “There’s no way you can get rid of me,” he jabbed, “you’re all but hopeless with a sword.”

Abruptly they realized that people were beginning to stir and rise from the pews as the sermon was, finally, over. Their siblings were already rising, some eager to be allowed to move and some with the noble bearing her mother was always trying to get Harriet to emulate. At the beginning of each week, they all sat down for the Chantry sermons, oldest to youngest. Some had been promised to the Chantry in some form or fashion, like Harriet. One of her older sisters was going to become a Sister in the Chantry, while her youngest brother had been promised to the Templar Order as she and Jason had been. Ultimately, out of the eight children that her parents had, half of them were going to be sent away to the Chantry.

Lady Trevelyan looked down at her twins with a steely gaze, the kind that made them wither with the promise of punishment. “See Matron Beatrix about your behavior today. You are Trevelyans and I will not have you disregarding the Chantry.”

“But Mother,” Jason replied, “if we have been pledged to the Templars, would it not be a good sign that we have too much energy to sit still?”

His diplomacy fell on deaf ears. Their mother’s grey eyes narrowed as she drew herself up for a lecture, as if she were addressing unruly Templar recruits who couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to their studies when they could be playing with wooden sticks in the training yard. She was a tall woman, taller than most men they knew, who used every inch to her full advantage whenever she found herself scolding or lecturing someone, whether they were child, servant, or social peer. That combined with her flowing locks of elegant, flaming red hair and sharp wit, she was a truly formidable woman and all knew to acquiesce to her wishes.

“If you showed half the discipline that the Templars require of you then I would not have to remind you to mind yourselves in a Chantry. Do you think the Order is all fun and games? Do you think guarding clerics and the people from the dangers of magic is a trivial matter? Don’t forget that it is our duty to pledge you to the Order to fight on the Maker’s behalf and it is your duty to see that you apply yourselves to seeing that we have not shirked in our duty by promising lack wits and weaklings rather than the very best that we can offer. And tell Matron Beatrix to send you to Captain Bolton for drills after she’s done with you two.”

Harriet groaned. Matron Beatrix would give them lines, or make them recite sappy Orlesian poetry, or give them a dull lesson on etiquette, striking their hands with her measuring rod whenever they got a question wrong, or picked up the wrong spoon. Captain Bolton, on the other hand, would insist that they pick up swords and drill and spar until he grew bored or exhaustion took them. Never mind the fact that Harriet couldn’t use a sword if her life depended on it or ever get her shield up in time to block an attack. She usually walked away from these sessions with more scrapes and bruises than skin.

As they turned to follow Lady Trevelyan down the marble steps of the Chantry where Ostwick’s noble families viewed the services to the lower levels, Harriet wondered whether she could find a place to hide once they got to their estate instead of obeying her mother’s commands.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day late, but time is wibbly wobbly, so it's okay.

Jason resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his ridiculous sister as they stepped into the carriage that they had taken to the Chantry. Harriet was grumbling sourly to herself and fidgeting with her dress again at the thought of drills, no doubt. She was so dramatic as she lamented her fate to join the Chantry, spending the days getting hit while attempting to use a sword before they thought to train her in another form of weaponry. Personally, he had always been more amenable to the Chantry than Harriet, who enjoyed hitting things, just not the getting hit, part. Jason enjoyed the martial training and the strength that emerged as a result. When he was younger, joining the Templars had seemed like joining an order of knights, and he dreamed of his destiny, riding in in shining armor to save damsels in distress from wicked mages. He still smiled at the thought, even though his mother had told him repeatedly that joining the Templars was his duty, not saving damsels.

As they rode through the streets of Ostwick, Jason looked out at its streets. Ostwick was a coastal city and from where they were situated, he could see the Waking Sea on the horizon over the high walls of sturdy granite separating the harbor from the rest of the city. Those walls had defended the city from Qunari attacks ages ago and remained as a testament to the wars fought. Ostiwick was neither the strongest, nor the most wealthy in the Free Marches, but it was still home for him and the rest of his family.  
When they neared the Trevelyan estate, Jason began to mirror his twin, fidgeting, but with anticipation rather than trepidation. All that separated him from the training yard was however long Beatrix decided to keep them. In truth, Beatrix was his punishment and Bolton was Harriet’s, and their mother was likely fully aware of this when she assigned it to them.

The lesson went by painfully slowly, as Beatrix had opted to have them recite tragic poetry, probably written by bored Orlesians who had probably never read a poem in their lives. But as soon as she dismissed them, Jason practically ran towards the training yard, ignoring her reprimand to walk.

“I can’t believe you actually like this stuff,” she muttered. “All we ever do is get hit. Isn’t there something better for us to do?”

“You’re just bitter because you suck at swordplay,” Jason replied.  
“And you’re only smug because you always win,” she responded. “Maybe he’ll let us practice archery instead, or something that doesn’t involve getting knocked into the dirt.”

Captain Bolton, it seemed, had indeed finally given up trying to teach Harriet to swing a sword and given her a bow and quiver of arrows. Then he turned to Jason and barked, “Well? What are you waiting for? Get suited up!” He bolted away to grab his training sword and gear and hurried to the training ring. Without his sister to spar against, Captain Bolton had one of the guard recruits substitute.

“Make sure to go easy on the squirt,” he shouted.

The recruit, nearly 10 years older than Jason, grinned as he shifted into a ready stance, his armor a larger version of the training equipment that Jason wore. Jason moved to strike and was easily parried, as the guard was much larger and more experienced. Immediately he began to push the offensive and Jason was barely able to raise his shield to block in time. He was too slow to block the next one and his opponent struck him soundly in the hip. Jason hissed in pain and glared at his opponent, who looked oddly smug at having bested a child.

“Wipe that grin off, recruit!” Captain Bolton shouted. Jason steeled himself for the next attack, which he was able to block, and immediately moved to counterattack. The attack bounced off harmlessly and the guard slammed into him with his shield. Jason fell down into the dirt with all the grace of a clumsy chipmunk. “Get up! Again!” barked the captain. He scrambled to his feet in time to get jabbed in the ribs. This must be what it feels like to be Harriet, he thought. Practice went on like this for over an hour, with Harriet herself joining the captain at the edge of the ring cheering him on and shouting insults at his opponent. Jason was getting frustrated. He had never had this much trouble fighting before.

He moved again to prepare for the next blow when it happened. He blocked the first blow with his shield, brought his sword up to meet the second, then blocked the third with his shield when he was once again slammed with his opponent’s shield and knocked into the dirt. He glared with anger at his opponent, when all of a sudden, fire shot from one of his hands into his opponent’s shield. The recruit stared widely before he realized he was on fire and threw down his gear and ran for a water trough. Guards were shouting as the captain barked orders, trying to prevent chaos in the training yard.

Jason stared dumbfounded at the still burning shield, burning from fire that he himself had called unwittingly. He turned his gaze to find Harriet and met her eyes. He would join the Chantry, all right, but he would never be a knight.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to wonker8 for being my beta for this story. <3

Everything happened at once. Harriet ran towards Jason. The guard ran towards the water trough. The other guards who had been watching either backed away from the ring or also ran towards Jason, with something like rage showing on their faces clear as day.

“Jason, what happened?! Are you okay?!” she shouted.

“I---“ he started, but the other guards were closing in fast.  
“Get up! Get behind me!” she shouted. She moved in front of him, as if her small body alone could protect her brother from the guards out for blood. She picked up his sword and shield, even though she was hopeless with them, and settled into a shaky defensive stance. These weapons might be useless against grown men, but she was determined to defend her twin no matter what.

“I promise you,” she whispered, “I won’t let them take you without a fight.”

“What happened? I didn’t mean to- Is he all right?” Jason rambled. The nearest guard drew close and began to draw his weapon.

A familiar whistle sounded in the air and an arrow found its way into his heart.

The man dropped to the ground, dead. The other guards froze and looked up from where the arrow had flown.

Up on the balcony looking out over the training grounds was none other than Lady Ambrose Trevelyan herself. In her hands was a longbow made of ironbark and another arrow ready to fly into the next person to step near her children.

“Captain Bolton,” she thundered, “bring my children to my chambers immediately.”

“At once, my Lady,” he spoke.

****************************************************************************************************  
Jason sat on one of the ornate couches in his parents wing of the estate, completely numb to the world. Harriet was pacing around growling about stupid guards or magic or something. He kept running over everything that happened in the sparring ring, wondering if there was some other way that his opponent’s shield could have caught fire. He decided that his favorite way was spontaneous combustion because the Maker clearly thought that he was being way too rough with one of the Trevelyans. He sighed.

“I guess this means that I’ll have to go to the Circle, now,” he spoke, cutting into Harriet’s disgruntled rambling.

“Like hell you are,” she growled back. “We’re the Trevelyans! Surely they can make an exception! You’re my brother!”

“What? Let me be an apostate?” he scoffed, “When have the Templars ever let an apostate go, let alone set up shop right under their noses?”

“This isn’t funny, Jay!” she yelled. “I’m going to be a Templar, they can’t take you to the Circle! We can’t be enemies!”

“You don’t have a choice!” he shouted back, “None of us have any choice! You’re going to be a Templar and I’m going… going to… be a mage…” Jason looked down and kicked the end table. He hated everything about this magic. It took everything from him. He could never be a knight, never protect people. People would be protected from him.  
At that moment, Lord and Lady Trevelyan strode through the doors. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife. Jason, sat down, terrified of what his parents would say to him before he was taken away.

Finally, Lord Havard Trevelyan spoke evenly, “The Templars have been notified, they will arrive this evening to take you to the Circle of Magi.”

“I understand,” said Jason, “and… I’m sorry.” He sat staring at the rug, unable to meet his parents’ eyes.

Ambrose moved across the room to sit next to him and took him in her arms, smoothing his blond curls. “It’s not your fault, my son,” she whispered. “The Maker puts us all on our paths for a reason. We planned for you to be a Templar, but the Maker decided to make you a mage, instead. It’s alright. It’s not your fault.”

Jason began to sob and Ambrose held her son for what might be the last time. She sent a silent prayer up to the Maker to let her see her son again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of these days I'll remember to do this "update the fanfiction" thing on time. Unfortunately, deadlines tend to be more suggestions than requirements in my life... Oh well. Here's chapter 4, a day late. As always, thanks to my lovely friend, wonker8 for betaing my work.

True to Lord Havard’s words, the Templars arrived later that evening to escort Jason to his new home. Lady Trevelyan haggled relentlessly to let her son return to the estate every now and then, using every bit of power and privilege that her station afforded her until she finally wrested assurances to her satisfaction. 

Harriet stayed with Jason until the Templars moved to take him away. She was the most surprised of all her family to see her mother argue so fiercely on behalf of a mage. When he finally left, she stood still as stone in the foyer, staring after her twin, the person she had always expected to be by her side.

Lord Havard came up next to her and put his hand on her shoulder. He didn’t say anything for a while, just kept his vigil with his daughter as she silently mourned the sudden hole in their home. Above and behind her, where she could not see, her brothers and sisters held their own vigil, with Ambrose leading them in a recitation of the Canticle of Trials.

I cannot see the path.  
Perhaps there is only abyss.  
Trembling, I step forward,  
In darkness enveloped.

Though all before me is shadow,  
Yet shall the Maker be my guide.  
I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond.  
For there is no darkness in the Maker’s Light  
And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost.

Harriet wasn’t sure how long she stood there staring after Jason. She only knew that the scarlet light of the sunset began to darken. Eventually she turned from the foyer and went to the only place that made any sense. She stalked through the halls of the estate towards the training grounds, which would be lit by torches, since the last of the sun’s light was beginning to fade and the light of the moons began to emerge. She went straight towards the archery range, the last place she had been before she had turned to watch Jason in time to see the first of his wretched magic. When she arrived, she seized a longbow and a quiver of arrows.

She struggled for about an hour, stubbornly trying to draw back the bowstring and fire an arrow into the target. After trying and failing to achieve to even bring the string back so she could aim, she threw it down to the ground with a shout and began to weep bitter tears.

Soft footsteps announced someone’s presence to her. She looked, her eyes red and puffy, at her mother as she’d never seen her before. She was dressed in practical leather garments and held the same ironbark bow that she had slain her son’s assailant with. She knelt down in to look her daughter in the eye.

“This bow is an heirloom of my own family, going back to the Battle of Ayesleigh, where Garahel ended the Fourth Blight. My mother bequeathed it to me when I left to marry your father.” She held the bow reverently and looked at her daughter. 

“It’s beautiful,” Harriet said shortly. “But it can’t bring Jason back.”

Ambrose stared at her daughter for a moment before she spoke, “Have I ever told you about my first child?” 

Harriet started, she had always believed that Edmund, her oldest brother was the eldest. She shook her head.

Ambrose breathed, “Our first child, Katheryn, was a beautiful girl. She had such promise. When she was younger than Jason is now, a little after her tenth birthday, her magic surfaced. She froze one of the servants’ feet.” Harriet giggled, despite herself and her mother smiled.

“Katheryn was taken away that very day. I wept for days after and prayed to the Maker that I never have another mage as a child because I cannot bear to see the Templars take them away.”

Harriet tilted her head, “But mother,” she said, “Why did you want Jason and me to be Templars if you don’t like them?”

“Because magic is still dangerous,” she replied, “and the world will always need people who can protect mages and protect them from the dangers they pose to themselves and others.”

Harriet didn’t get it. She returned her attention to the longbow her mother had brought with her. “What does this have to do with your bow?”

Ambrose took it in both hands and stood up to better support its weight. “You cannot wield a longbow yet. You are not strong enough to even lift one. But when you can lift this bow, string it, and shoot ten arrows into the center of the target, then it shall be yours. And you will use it to protect the people.”

Harriet gasped with delight.

Ambrose smiled, “But for now, bed. It has been a long day for all of us and you need your rest if you are going to train properly with Captain Bolton tomorrow.”

 

The Templars were silent as they escorted Jason from the estate to the Ostwick Circle of Magi. Jason tried desperately to be brave, as brave as Harriet was. She was never afraid of anything. When they had been 6, she had gotten separated from their parents in the market. Jason would have cried, he would have collapsed on the ground and bawled until his parents or a city guard found him. Not Harriet. Harriet wandered around the bazaar, gazing eagerly at the jewelry, toys, foods, and most of all, weapons. They had found nearly two hours later attempting to bully one of the merchants into giving her a helmet.

Harriet had always been the brave one. If she had been the mage, she would have kicked the Templars until one of them relented to carry her the rest of the way. Jason was too nervous and afraid to even speak to them. They marched in tense silence as the sun’s light began to dim until they finally reached the Circle tower on the northern outskirts of the city.

Jason had only half expected to find that the Circle was indeed a tower. Maybe it’s a mage thing, he thought, since they no longer rule, they can literally look down on everyone else. The enormous, runed doors swung open to receive them and Jason stepped into a large, granite hall not unlike some of the noble homes that he had visited on occasion. If the hall had a some overly ornate Orlesian rugs, he might easily mistake it as such. There were few decorations, each and every item seemed to have a purpose. In front of him, ready to welcome him to the Circle was a middle aged elven woman and a younger woman with brilliant auburn hair. She looked vaguely familiar.

“Ah,” said the older woman, “I see this is the newest addition to our Circle, come here child.” Jason moved with no small amount of trepidation, something she seemed to pick up on immediately. “It’s alright,” she said, “we’re all a bit frightened when we first arrive.” She smiled warmly. “I am First Enchanter Lananna, and I welcome you to the Circle. Feel free to come to me with whatever concerns you might have.”

She turned to the mage beside her. “I leave him to your care, Enchanter.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason meets his new teacher and spends his first night in the Circle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm on time for once! Awesome! As always thank you to my beta, wonker8.

The enchanter approached him and knelt down to look him in the eye. “My name is Enchanter Katheryn, and I have been assigned to be your mentor while you are learning to control your magic.” Jason nodded but no words came.

Katheryn stood and held out her hand. “I imagine that it has been a long day for you,” she said. “Come, we’ll get you situated in the dormitories and tomorrow we’ll introduce you to life in the Circle. I promise it’s not so bad once you get used to it.”

Jason took her hand and followed her into the hall which was not at all as dismal as he had expected. He had expected low walls of dark stone and dingy little rooms where mages all huddled together like sheep. Instead, the tan stone gave the tower a warm feel and torches had been lit to make up for the dimming light of the evening. Eventually they reached the dormitory and Jason swallowed.

This was far beyond anything he had ever experienced. Sure, he had shared quarters with Harriet, but she was his twin and they had their own room. This “dormitory” as Katheryn had said was filled with children, with bunk beds lined up neatly in row and a few boys who had taken advantage of the evening to get some time to themselves.  
“Do all the Circle mages sleep in here?” he asked.

Katheryn laughed, “Of course not! We couldn’t house all the mages in this room. This is the dormitory for apprentice boys. There’s another one for the girls, and once you become a mage, you’ll be moved to your own quarters.”

Jason’s uneasiness didn’t settle much at this explanation as he stared out at the rows of beds, none of which looked as comfortable as his had been at home. This was also many more people around him than he was used to. “How long will that take?” he inquired.

“As long as it takes,” she replied sternly. “You must master your magic and that takes time, focus, and discipline. It’s not something you can rush. But you will master it. Everyone takes years to fully come into their full power and master it, but nearly everyone does. Don’t worry.”

Jason looked up at that. “What do you mean by ‘most’?”

His new instructor looked down and said, “I said don’t worry, and that’s all I will say about it for now. You will learn to control your magic, you will rise to the occasion, you will become a mage, and honor your family name. Or have the Trevelyans grown soft over the years?” 

He bristled at that. “Of course not!”

She looked pleased, “Good, now no more belly aching over this.” She strode away and found an empty bed with folded linens at the foot, clearly prepared for a new arrival. “This is your bed. I assume you don’t know how to make it?”

Jason shook his head and Katheryn began to teach him the basic skill that he would need for the next few years. She explained that while the Circle did have servants who prepared meals and washed clothes and such, apprentices were expected to take care of their own living areas. She presented him with a key that opened one of the locked chests under the bed, which would be used to contain his robes and whatever else he had that he decided to stash in it. 

Next began the basic tour of places to know in the tower, primarily the lavatories which were adjacent the dormitories, the baths (which Katheryn was insistent upon, as she said she would refuse to teach him anything if he smelled like a pig), and most importantly, the Circle library. 

The library was an enormous multi-level room that seemed to go up for three stories within the tower itself, each level about 20 feet high. Each wall was lined with seemingly equally enormous mahogany shelves, which went from the floor to the ceiling of each level. Jason drifted over to the nearest shelf and stared in disbelief. He had never imagined that so many books existed in his entire life.

“You will spend most of your time here,” Katheryn spoke, interrupting his reverie, “studying and learning more about magical theory. It is a necessary part of Circle life for any who has the desire to make something of themselves as a mage.”

 

“We don’t practice magic in here, do we?” Jason asked, immediately wondering what would happen if some idiot mage decided to test their fireball spell in a room filled with books.

“No, we don’t,” she replied, “Unless we are practicing summoning magic in the Creation School. That kind of magic is usually benign enough to practice here and even then we usually practice magic in a large open room on the second floor. That way nothing gets damaged if something goes wrong.”

Jason suddenly yawned and Katheryn chuckled. “That’s enough for today, then. Go on back to the dormitory and get some rest. We start your first lesson at an hour past sunrise. I trust you remember the way?”

Jason nodded and headed back the way they had come in. He briefly considered going to the baths, but decided against it since he was simply exhausted. When he returned to the dorm it was noticeably more lively, with scores of young boys bustled and chatted quietly while others attempted to get some sleep. He headed over to the bed he had set up earlier, sat down, and began changing quickly into his set of night robes. He had gotten his pants up before a bright voice shouted, “HEY!” He jumped and looked around for the source of this newest addition to his day of new additions.

The culprit was an elf from the bed above him, sporting a toothy grin as he looked down at his new neighbor, dark hair dangling from his head in a hopeless tangled mess. “My name is Garos, I’m new here, too!”

Garos couldn’t be any more different from Jason. He had dark, ebony skin where Jason was fair. His eyes were dark green, where Jason’s were bright blue, his frame was wiry, where Jason had inherited his father’s broad build.

Jason sighed. “I’m Jason. Aren’t you tired? It’s late.” 

Garos was, apparently, not fazed in the slightest. “Are you kidding?!” he nearly shouted, “I come from the alienage, I’ve never seen a place so grand in my life!”

Jason glanced up, scrutinizing his new bunkmate and wondered what exactly his life had been like before that he embraced Circle life with such enthusiasm. He shrugged, weariness winning out over curiosity and lay down his head. Despite the din of the dormitory, he managed to drift into a fitful sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harriet and Jason adjust to their new, weird lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to my lovely beta, wonker8.

The only reason Jason woke up at dawn, and therefore in time for his lesson with Katheryn, was because Garos was apparently one of those people who didn’t know that being cheerful in the morning was indicative of a severe moral failing. That said, Jason suspected that had his elven bunkmate not woken him up so early, he probably would have slept until noon. He allowed Garos to almost literally drag him from the dorms to the mess hall where he vaguely remembered pouring a cup of tea so that he could attempt to be appropriately social. Garos was every bit as friendly with the other newcomers as he had been with Jason. There were a few present who had come to the tower in the last month, though he wasn’t fully prepared to learn names and faces this early in the morning. Instead, he focused on moving his jaw up and down as he ate the food in front of him.

He managed to be in the designated corner of library in time to see his own mentor nursing a mug of tea and glaring at the wall across from her. He also noticed that there was a kettle and another mug sitting across the table from her. She glanced at Jason when he appeared but made no move to acknowledge his presence as she took another sip. Jason decided that he to simply sit quietly until she was ready to begin the lesson and tried not to doze off.

About fifteen minutes later she finished her tea and promptly refilled her mug as she looked at Jason. She mutely offered him some tea, which he accepted readily. She also made to point out the honey and cream on the table. “Help yourself,” she muttered. Jason added enough honey to make it sweet, but ignored the cream. He had never cared for it in his tea, personally, though Harriet added copious amounts to hers. They passed the next fifteen minutes in silence, each nursing their tea and listening to other mages chatter about subjects that went completely over his head. For a moment, he also heard Garos and his distinctive cheerfulness before whoever his mentor was silenced him.

“Thank the Maker,” Katheryn mumbled before taking a long drink from her mug.

Jason chuckled. “He’s my bunkmate, and the only reason I’m awake this early,” he said.

Katheryn looked at him with a wry grin, “My condolences,” she said and drained the rest of her mug.

“Alright, tomorrow you will come two hours past sunrise, as I overestimated my own ability to be awake,” she announced. “Today, however, we need to begin teaching you how to sense your own magic and summon it.”

Jason shifted in his seat. “Okay… how?”

“In order to perform any magic, you need to focus. I’m told your first magic was fire, so today I want you to try and summon fire in your hand.”

Jason looked down to stare at his hand, “How? Won’t I just end up burning myself?” he asked.

Katheryn looked down at her own hand and summoned a small flame in her palm. “Focus on your hand and imagine flame. Reality does not rule us, it is ours to shape as we see fit. Summon fire and know that it will not burn you.”

Summoning fire turned out to be much harder than she had made it sound. He stared at his hand and tried to imagine fire appearing to no avail after about half an hour, Katheryn made him take a break after she had watched him contort his face in an effort to make flame. He was beginning to sweat slightly as he stood up to stretch his legs. He looked to his mentor, “Is it always this hard?”

She smiled, “No, it gets easier with practice, but for new mages, yes, it is often very difficult to begin to use their magic.”

“If it’s so hard to learn,” he said, “why teach anyone at all? If no one knew how to use magic, there wouldn’t be anything to worry about, would there?”

Katheryn leaned back in her seat, “There are two reasons: first, controlling magic becomes easier with practice and with age. Even if you never learned how, you would end up summoning your magic in some sense. It is part of who you are, like a limb. So even if no one really knew how to use magic, those gifted with magic would develop some rudimentary control over their abilities. Second, even mages who can control their abilities attract spirits from the Fade. Those who cannot control their abilities run greater risk at becoming possessed by demons, who seek to gain a foothold in the physical world. Learning to control our abilities is the best method for defending ourselves from them, and thus protecting each other and the people. This is why the Circle exists, so we can teach each new generation how to use their power so that they pose the least amount of risk possible.”

Jason nodded, “So if I can’t get my magic to work…?”

Her face grew stern. “What did I tell you yesterday? You will learn to master your magic. Just because you failed to summon fire the first time you tried doesn’t mean that you can’t. I would have found it amazing if you had succeeded on the first try!” She paused to take a breath. “It will take you time to learn how to focus properly, be patient. Now, try again.”

The day continued in much the same way, with the two of them leaving the library to get sandwiches at the mess hall, and even then Katheryn had him focusing on making fire. Twice he managed to summon a sputtering ember that lasted for few seconds before going out. At the end of the day, Jason was exhausted, though Katheryn said he did very well.

Garos, it turned out, had a very similar day, though he was only slightly less cheerful than usual from what Jason could tell. Jason lay on the bed and resigned himself to listening to his bunkmate talk about how his mentor, an older elven man who had a tendency to ramble when giving instruction, had him trying to freeze a bowl of water, which had only managed to become cool by the end of the day. Garos seemed personally offended by this bowl of water and vowed that the next day he would freeze it entirely and slide it down someone’s robes.

“Wouldn’t that just get you into trouble with the Templars?” Jason asked.

“Of course not!” Garos cried. “It just means that I have to be quick so I don’t get caught! And of course, you’ll be my lookout!”

“Wait, what?!”

“Come on! It’ll be fun! What could possibly go wrong?” He looked at Jason with his now trademark toothy grin.

Jason grinned, despite himself. “Everything.”

Garos put sat down beside him and put his arm around Jason’s shoulders. “You worry too much, it’s bad for your health.”

Jason tried very hard not to smile. Or laugh. Or anything that showed that this weird little elf was growing on him. Garos, the little devil child that he was noticed and began to plot out the intricate, implausible details of just how they would manage to sneak up behind someone to dump ice down their back. By the end of it, Jason was rolling on the floor laughing hysterically while Garos watched with a triumphant smug on his face. 

 

Harriet rose early that day and met her mother in the training yard, dressed in the same leathers that she had seen the night before. She was still sour about Jason being in the Circle, but she was determined to become stronger, the promise of her mother’s bow fixed in her mind. Her mother ran her through stretching exercises for the first ten minutes or so, designed to help make her more flexible.

“Using a bow effectively is as much about dexterity as it is about being strong enough to pull back the string,” she said. “In battle, archers are easy targets, even as they are invaluable. Any decent archer needs to be able to avoid getting hit if they’re going to be useful to their comrades.”

So Harriet moved her body in ways she had never imagined. The stretching itself felt good, but she was not quite as flexible as she had thought she was. Ambrose shifted through the motions easily, and when she was warmed up, began to teach Harriet the basics of archery: where to place her chin, the proper form for drawing the string back, how to stand correctly while shooting.

It was much harder, much hotter work than Harriet had anticipated. She was vocal in her frustrations, too. Lady Ambrose took these interruptions in stride, teaching her daughter with patience and grace as she approached many aspects of noble life. Maker knew that there were not a few times in her life when she had wanted to strangle idiotic or rude guests.

Fortunately, Harriet seemed to have a knack for archery itself. She was consistent in her aiming, even if her aiming itself was about as off as beginners tended to be. One round she failed to hit the target at all and the next she hit the outer ring. Once, she managed to shoot an arrow in the center ring, which earned Ambrose’s congratulations followed immediately after by telling her to do it again. By the end of the day, she had managed to cluster a few arrows about a foot and a half away from the center of the target.

Later, Harriet fought with the servant who had been instructed to bathe her after her day of exertion.

“I don’t want to take a bath!” she insisted.

“How old are you, my lady,” the servant asked, “four? Your lady mother commanded you to bathe, so you shall bathe.”

“I just don’t see the point,” Harriet replied, “I’ll just end up dirty and sweaty again tomorrow. I might as well just not bathe.”

“Then I may as well inform your mother that your lessons will cease, as she informed me that you will not appear to your lessons with Matron Beatrix sweating like an ox. If you cannot keep yourself presentable, she said that you will not continue your archery lessons.”

Harriet huffed and began to remove her clothes with aggressive gusto, climbed into the tub and proceeded to glower as the servant began to wash the grim off her. She was moody the rest of the day, to the point where Matron Beatrix spoke to her mother after her lesson. When the lesson was finally over, Harriet fled back to her room, her too empty room, that she had shared with Jason for nine years. Most of his things were still here, untouched since he couldn’t take any of them to the Circle. Her eyes fell on a set of toy swords and shields that he played with when they were free.

She picked up one of the shields and threw it across the room, where it knocked harmlessly into a bit of bare wall. She sank to the floor and began to sob, wishing that this was all some horrible dream and that she would wake up to find him here, as he had always been. He had always been the brave one.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason and Harriet get used to their new lives. They're sad. Then they go to the opera.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to my lovely beta, wonker8, for reading my chapters with encouraging enthusiasm. Comments, critiques, etc. are welcome, as always.

Over the next year, Harriet and Jason somehow managed to settle into their new routines. Harriet somehow managed to sit through her lessons on etiquette, protocol, and history with the promise of getting to vent her frustrations in archery practice with either her mother or Captain Bolton. She practiced for hours each day, rain or shine, and the guards soon became as accustomed to her as they had been with each other. Harriet found that she was quickly learning not only how to shoot arrows but also a brand new, colorful vocabulary that achieved many things, not least of which was shocking her mother and servants.

Jason, on the other hand, applied himself to his studies and soon discovered that he seemed to have a natural gift for magic, particularly when it came to fire. He found that after months of study, he could summon fire within a minute or two and even manipulate it to some extent. Lightning was more difficult, but it was also more fun to use. The amount of lightning that he could summon was good for pranking people or getting back at Garos when he pranked him. He couldn’t count the number of times they had been summoned to a Senior Enchanter’s office to explain what they had done. Katheryn had attempted to scold him once, as his mentor, but apparently seeing a particularly sour mage jump up and dance around with ice in his robe so much that he had actually set his robes on fire was so amusing that she couldn’t bring herself to punish them for it.

“If he can’t control his magic enough to not set himself on fire when something unexpected happens,” she said in a very matter of fact manner, “then he deserves whatever pranks people decide to play on him.” Then she shooed them away before he could discover them after dousing his fire.

Jason made new friends, as well, mostly because of Garos and his bright, infectious personality. People gravitated toward him, except some of the human kids who had apparently inherited some anti-elf bias before coming to the Circle. They made prime targets for the pranks that Garos led against them. One girl who was apparently from Orlais had taffy stuck in her hair while she was sleeping. She woke up so horrified at the state of her hair that she promptly attempted to burn the taffy out, causing such a horrible stench that the rest of the dorm woke in a frenzy. One of the older students had tried to douse her hair and overdone it, freezing her hair completely. It had taken an hour for her hair to thaw enough for one of the servants to cut her hair into something presentable, which at that point meant that her hair was above her shoulders by the time the servant was done. 

The incident had him distracted during his lesson that day, but because he was attempting to conjure ice, it wasn’t as if he would have had much success anyway.

About nine months later, he received notification that his aunt was making the family attend one of her regular Antivan operas and that though he was a mage, he was not exempt from attending. He would be escorted to the Trevelyan estate, where they would then all go together to the opera house to spend the evening and he would return to the Circle the next morning. All in all, as much as he liked his friends, he was looking forward to seeing Harriet again and sleeping in his own bed.

He made his way down to the foyer of the Circle to go to the estate when he was ready. He stood there waiting in awkward silence with the Templars, when he finally plucked up the courage to ask, “When are we leaving?”

The Templar, a middle aged man who seemed to take his duty of guarding the mages seriously, rather than bullying them and issuing threats replied, “We’re waiting for the other Trevelyan, young sir.”

Jason’s eyebrows rose so far it was a wonder that they didn’t fly off his face. “There’s another Trevelyan here?” he asked. “Who?”

“You’ll find out soon enough, I suspect,” he said. “My name is Ser Mormont Trevelyan. I’m one of your father’s cousins, I don’t believe we’ve ever met.”

“My name is Jason,” he said with no small amount of shock. He really shouldn’t be surprised. His family was very pious, so there’s almost a guarantee that there were at least a few Trevelyans among the Templars at the Circle tower. They chatted for the next few minutes about the family when Ser Mormont looked up.

“Ah, there you are, we can make our way to the estate.”

Jason looked over to where Ser Mormont had spoken to find yet another shock for the evening. His own mentor, Katheryn, was standing there in what looked like formal mage robes. 

“You’re the other Trevelyan?” he blurted out.

“Yes,” she said simply.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded.

“Because it never came up and it wasn’t something that you needed to know.”

Ser Mormont looked perturbed at this exchange as he interjected, “Jason, Katheryn is your oldest sister. She came to the circle about a year before you were born. Katheryn, you failed to tell him that you are his sister? Your mother would be ashamed at your negligence.”

Katheryn, for her credit, managed to look appropriately chastised.

“Now, since we’ve all been properly introduced, let us not waste any more time,” and he led them out of the Circle.

 

Harriet could hardly contain herself enough for her servant to dress her in one those ridiculous frilly dresses that her mother always insisted she wear to these operas. After months of Jason missing from her life, she would finally get to see him again, even if it was only for an evening. She was even willing to put up with the stupid opera her aunt made them attend for the chance to see him.

When her parents had informed her that Jason was going to meet them at the estate before they all headed over to the opera house, she had been so excited she could hardly sit still long enough to finish eating. Harriet only wished that he could stay longer so she could show him what all she had learned to do with a bow since they had seen each other last.

Suddenly she frowned, doubt crawling over her mind like a spider spinning its web. What if he wasn’t impressed by her mundane life anymore? What if his magic was so impressive that he didn’t care about her anymore? What if he found her boring or gross or annoying? Would he be her brother anymore?

When the servant finished dressing her, she simply sat down on the bed and wondered what would happen that night, if she was being silly or not. She lingered there for a few minutes, praying to the Maker that He wouldn’t let her brother change too much, that they could still be siblings and friends even though they were so different. She wished again, for the umpteenth time, that his magic had never surfaced so that they could have spent their childhoods together, become knights together, joined the Templars together, instead being in the Chantry on opposite sides. She had asked one of the Revered Mothers at the Chantry why the Maker had separated them and made it so they would be on opposite sides. The Mother had told her that the Maker has a plan and a purpose for everyone and that while it may not be for mortals to know what those are, there is a reason for why everything happens in life. Harriet didn’t know if that was true, but if it was, she hoped that the Maker at least had a good reason.

Jason arrived about an hour later, along with his instructor/teacher, Katheryn, and an older Templar who was apparently a distant relative. Jason immediately ran towards Harriet and tackled her, earning an amused scolding from both their sister and mother. They quickly began catching up, busily ignoring their other siblings. Jason demanded to know everything about her archery and Harriet managed to make him show her what kind of magic he had learned how to do. Ser Mormont supervised while he conjured a small flame in his hand, and then a bit of lightning, which he shocked her with.

After about half an hour of this, Lord Havard announced that it was time to depart for the opera house so they could be there in time to be considered fashionably late.

“What is the point of being fashionably late,” inquired one of the older siblings, “Won’t we just miss the beginning?”

“Nonsense!” cried Havard, “We shall arrive there in time for the end of the overture and late enough so that everyone will notice us.”

Ser Mormont huffed. “Sure, that might work in the Orlesian court, but this is just an opera. People aren’t there to see us, they’re there to see theater.”

Havard gave a dramatic sigh, “Ah my poor deluded cousin,” he mourned, “they may not be there to see us, but everyone is there to be seen and if everyone sees us, then we shall prove that we hold influence in the lives of our peers.”

Harriet leaned towards Jason and Katheryn. “Do either of you understand what he’s talking about?” she stage whispered.

Katheryn chuckled and responded in kind, “Politics or something. It doesn’t make any sense. Be glad you’re not the heir.”

Jason replied, “I’m suddenly glad that I’ll never have to worry about any of this.”

At this point they had all reached the carriages and Harriet rode with Jason, Katheryn, and Ser Mormont. Harriet asked Ser Mormont about his life as a Templar, particularly if he had had any adventures.

“Sadly no, child. The life of a Templar sometimes lends itself to adventure and excitement, but it is much better if our duties merely extend to watching and protecting the mages rather than hunting down the ones who flee. The Ostwick Circle is a quiet one, too. Many mages are content to study and hone their craft and there is seldom need to intervene unless some young hotheads decide to have a go at each other.”

Harriet seemed disappointed by this. “Why did you become a Templar then?”

Ser Mormont stroked his beard for a while before answering, “Well, I was promised to the Order as a child as you were, but I remained with the Templars because I wanted to protect people. That is our calling and why we devote our lives to the Maker, because someone must protect the people, even when it seems like there is nothing to protect them from.”

The rest of the ride to the opera house was uneventful, and by the time they arrived, the overture had begun and they hastened to their seats. Lady Ambrose and Lord Havard sat next to the aunt in the front row of their box while Katheryn, Ser Mormont, Jason and Harriet sat in the back row. Katheryn reached into a bag she had brought with her and held out some wax and offered it to them.

“You don’t want to hear the opera?” Ser Mormont whispered.

“Of course I do,” she replied. “I just don’t want to have my ears ringing for the next few days.”

Harriet had been to enough operas to know what she was talking about and accepted two bits of wax which he stuck in his ears. It didn’t matter that the entire opera was in Antivan, the actors would be loud enough to deafen them for at least the next few days.

As the actors began to come out to begin singing in their foreign tongue, Harriet and Jason began their usual pastime by assigning roles to the actors to supplement their inability to understand the language. Eventually an important looking young tenor emerged and took center stage with a bouquet of white and red roses.

“He’s obviously a flower vendor who knows nothing about actually arranging flowers,” Harriet whispered. “He’s hoping that the flowers are pretty enough for the princess to overlook his clear failings,” she said, pointing to the soprano who had emerged at the edge of the stage.

“No, no, no,” Jason replied. “He’s clearly a sheltered noble who’s courting a fair maiden who has many suitors and she likes him even though he’s awkward.”

While they argued about this, Ser Mormont asked Katheryn what they were talking about.

“I think they’re making it interesting for them by ascribing roles because we don’t speak Antivan,” she whispered.

“Aaahhh,” he said, smiling. “What do you think?”

Katheryn thought for a moment, watching the actors closely. “I think it would be funny if it turned out to be the naughty apprentice and the hapless recruit.” Ser Mormont responding snort lacked any sort of grace, earning them a quiet glare from the Aunt. 

The opera turned out to be a tragedy, with a soprano falling in love with a tenor and a baritone forcing them to be apart, ultimately ending with the tenor killing the baritone, died from his wounds which apparently did not affect his lungs in any way, whereupon the soprano sang herself to death and was mourned by a motley band of altos. All in all, it was a very disappointing play for Harriet and Jason. Harriet had liked the fight scenes, but didn’t like the lack of a heroic victory. Jason didn’t like that the tenor and soprano never got to be together. Katheryn was in tears, and Ser Mormont had fallen asleep, somehow.

They were able to rouse him from his slumber long enough to make it back to the estate. Harriet and Jason fell asleep on the ride back, with Harriet resting her head on his shoulder, a moment of quiet peace and contentment before their lives dragged them apart once again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason becomes a bit more at ease with his life in the Circle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm on time for once! Huzzah! Thanks, as always, to my beta wonker8 and her enthusiastic feedback and willingness to entertain my ideas for this story. Thanks for reading, and any feedback, praise, or criticism is welcome as always.

Jason departed the next morning, silent and glum. Ser Mormont and Katheryn were similarly silent, returning to the duty of their lives with the familiar grace, if not ease, that came with it. Katheryn noticed Jason’s predicament and remembered that this had been the first time he had been back since he had been taken to the Circle.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“I guess,” he replied. “I just wish that it could have lasted a bit longer.”

Ser Mormont nodded. “It’s never easy, coming home and knowing that it’s only for a short time,” he said, “We would all stay longer if we could and leaving to return to our lives of diligence and sacrifice is always hard.”

Jason looked at his mentor, “What about you? What was it like for you the first time you returned?”

Katheryn thought for a moment, “I cried the first time I had to return to the Circle,” she said, “Sometimes I still want to. Edmund and I were always closest with each other and knowing that our lives would always be irreconcilably different was hardest.”

Jason had spent enough time at the tower to know that not all the members of the Ostwick Circle resided at the tower. “But you could return, couldn’t you? You just need permission from the First Enchanter. I’m sure she would let you.”

Katheryn looked sad. “I tried for a time,” she replied, “I returned home briefly after I became a full mage. It was good for a time, I enjoyed being around my siblings again. But nobles try to hide their mage relatives as much as possible, and the Trevelyans are the most powerful family in Ostwick. There were more than a few parties and soirees that I was carefully kept from because the family was afraid of what the other families would think.”

Jason looked confused. “Why? What’s so bad about having a mage in the family?”

Katheryn sighed, “Pious families see it as a stain on the family legacy to have a mage in the family. It’s safe to assume that most noble families have at least one mage among them, but none of them would ever admit it because they think it would make it harder to make good matches for their children if it was public knowledge.”

“Why do you think they had us sit in the back row?” Ser Mormont interjected. “If it had just been me, I might have been more visible, but with two mages, the family sought to conceal you as much as possible.”

Jason was almost too shocked to speak. “So you returned to the Circle because you got tired of all that?”

Katheryn nodded. “In part,” she said. “I also returned because I realized that even though I love my family, they could never truly understand what it was like to have power like this at my fingertips.” She held up her hand and lightning danced in her palm briefly before it faded. “In truth, most mages end up staying at one Circle or another because being around people who understand what it’s like to have this power is comfortable and people who aren’t mages can never truly understand us.”

Ser Mormont chuckled. “You sound like an Isolationist.” He then noticed Jason’s confused look and clarified, “One of the enchanter fraternities. When mages are promoted to enchanters, they choose a fraternity to belong to.”

Katheryn picked it up from there. “Isolationists advocate for leaving the rest of society behind to pursue magical study in isolation, as the name might imply. Loyalists acknowledge the Chantry’s authority in everything. The Aequitarians are the most popular. They’re moderates who promote what they see as an ethical code all mages should observe. Libertarians advocate for breaking away from the Chantry entirely and become completely autonomous. The last fraternity are the Lucrosians, who are only interested in making money for the Circles. They’re a pretty small fraternity.”

Jason took all this in slowly. He was a long way from worrying about any of this. “So you’re an Isolationist?” he asked.

Katheryn shook her head. “No, I’m not an enchanter yet, just a mage. I sympathize with the Isolationists, but I imagine many people who have tried and failed to live in the world outside the Circle towers sympathize with them.”

Jason tried to understand, but all of this political talk was honestly going over his head and he figured it would be a number of years before he would have to know any of this. When the Circle tower was in sight, he sighed. The last time he had come into the tower, he was coming into a strange place with new, strange powers. Now, his powers were less strange, but somehow the tower seemed more confining than it had the last time he had seen it.

They exited the carriage and Ser Mormont went to report to the Knight Captain that they had returned. Katheryn and Jason walked together to the library. On the way, Katheryn laid her hand on his shoulder, “I know it doesn’t seem like it right now,” she said, “but we’re honestly some of the lucky ones here.”

Jason looked up at her, “What do you mean?”

“Our family still loves us, as difficult as it is. We have the freedom to return home if we wish it. Our noble station allows our family a little more leniency from the Chantry than most are afforded. If they wanted, our family could have probably kept us at the estate and hired other Circle mages to tutor us and the Templars would have had limited ability to do anything about it.”

Jason’s eyes widened. “Really?”

Katheryn smiled. “Yes. Most of the mages here don’t have that luxury. Most wouldn’t have anywhere to go if they had permission to leave. Their families might not take them in, or they would have to find a noble family that actually wants a mage around, a few might try their hand at adventuring, but after so many years of being confined in the tower studying, most don’t have the stomach for it.”

Jason grinned. “Did you try some adventuring?”

She huffed. “Of course not. The outdoors simply don’t suit me. I prefer my soft bed and warm fire, thank you very much.”

Jason poked her, “You tried to be an adventurer, don’t deny it.”

Katheryn smiled despite herself. “Shut it you,” she said, “or we’ll be practicing spend the next week practicing your ice magic.”

Jason laughed as they finally reached the library. He spied Garos and his mentor conversing in hushed tones and his mood immediately brightened. Life in the Circle may not be what he had envisioned, but he had to admit that there were good things about it.


	9. Chapter 9

The next several years passed by in similar fashion. Jason would spend months at the Circle tower studying his magic and how to harness his power. After about a year and a half, Katheryn had deemed him proficient enough to advance to more complex magic and he had been assigned Senior Enchanter Lydia as his new mentor. She had been tough, fair, encouraging, and demanded the very best from him. She reminded him of his own mother in a way. He still saw Katheryn regularly and enjoyed her company. During one of their visits to the estate, about four years after Jason had come to the Circle, he discovered her more mischievous side, as they spied on Edmund.

“Why are we hiding in a shrubbery?” he demanded.

Katheryn took out two sets of binoculars and handed him one. “Because,” she said, “Little Edmund found himself a boyfriend and I aim to make sure that I don’t have to kill him.”

Jason was more than a little shocked, all the teenage hormones and sexual frustration coming together to make him very confused and awkward. “Edmund? Boyfriend? Kill him? What’s going on?”

Katheryn rolled her eyes. “Eddie has been getting with one of sons of such and such bann, I can’t remember the family—”

Ser Mormont appeared beside them with his own set of binoculars. “The Renthaulds,” he said. “He’s been seeing Louis Renthauld. They’ve become nearly inseparable these days.”

Ser Mormont’s appearance didn’t help anything. “How do you know they’re sleeping together?”

Katheryn and Mormont turned to stare at him. “Because,” Katheryn said very slowly, “if they were any more obvious, the city guards would arrest them for public indecency.”

“Why would he sleep with another guy?” he asked. “What’s the point?”

Mormont returned his attention to Edmund and Louis, who were descending into open giggling. “He’s a virgin, isn’t he?”

Katheryn joined him in the spying. “Yup.”

“Hey!” Jason protested.

“Frustrated virgin.” Mormont amended.

“Yup.”

Jason decided to give up and leave them to it, but Katheryn insisted that he assist them in determining Edmund’s well-being. He picked up his binoculars in time for him to see them kiss and immediately made a gagging noise, which was quickly silenced by Katheryn’s hand. He moved to remove the binoculars and leave but was stopped by Ser Mormont. His relatives were very interested in his brother’s private life, it seemed and that meant that he had to be similarly interested. They had spent nearly an hour in that bush watching Edmund and his lover blush and gush over each other. Jason didn’t understand the attraction, but Katheryn later explained that some people liked people of the same sex, others like people of the opposite sex, and some liked both. She then launched into an explicitly detailed explanation about the mechanics of sex that left his face burning for at least a week afterwards.

That had been nearly four years ago. Now, Jason stood in the Harrowing chamber, a lanky, pimpled 17 year old apprentice, anticipating the ritual that would either spell his doom or end with him as an official member of the Circle of Magi. He watched the Templars make the preparations and noticed that Ser Mormont, now Knight Captain, was not present for this harrowing. Jason had hoped that he would be, considering how nervous he was. First Enchanter Lananna was present, though Jason had had such limited contact with her that he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to think of her being present for his harrowing. Maybe she was present for everyone’s harrowing, or perhaps she had taken a special interest in him for some reason. He knew that he was powerful, some of his peers had expressed jealousy at his natural talent, but he had always looked to Garos, who seemed to be even more powerful, and he was two years younger than him!

He suddenly noticed that the Templars seemed to have finished their preparation. The Knight-Commander came forward, gave a little speech about going into the Fade and confronting a demon to prove that he was no danger to anyone. Knowing what lay in store for him that night, Jason understood now why some people actually chose to go through the Rite of Tranquility. He walked up to the lyrium that would help send his conscious mind into the Fade and for a moment everything went white.

He “woke” in a fuzzy version of his estate. He was in the foyer, but that was the only thing that was recognizable. Windows were on the floor, a chair was on the ceiling, and the chandelier stuck out from one of the walls, all clear indications that whatever the Fade thought was the Trevelyan estate, they had no real idea of how the mortal world worked.

He could sense spirits around him but he had no idea where to go, so he simply headed for the training yard. He ran through the advice Katheryn and Lydia had given him about the Fade. Everything there is a trap. No spirit can be taken at face value. Trust nothing you encounter there. Never, ever let your guard down. He tried not to be afraid and squared his shoulders as he walked through the Fade imitation of his home. Perhaps whatever spirit was testing him was hoping he would feel nostalgic.

He reached what was supposed to be the training yard and found it twisted and strange. He found a spirit there, which looked like a warrior in heavy armor swinging a great sword. Some kind of warrior spirit, then. Jason supposed that it might be drawn to a place where soldiers train. After a moment of consideration, he approached the spirit, careful not to draw too close and find out just how much damage that sword could actually do to him.

The spirit seemed to sense him approach. “Ah, a mortal,” it said. “What brings you to this place?”

Jason studied the spirit briefly before answering. There was really no way of knowing what kind of spirit it was without asking, since spirits weren’t quite so obvious as demons. “I have been tasked with fighting a demon,” he replied.

It seemed to regard him for a moment. “So you’re the one the demon is after, then,” it said.

Perhaps this spirit knows something after all, Jason thought. “What can you tell me of this demon?” he asked.

“Nothing, truth be told,” it responded. “I only know that one was called here. I have not personally seen this demon yet.”

Well, so much for that, he thought. “In that case, can you tell me what kind of spirit you are?”

“I am Fortitude,” it replied. “I put steel in the backs of warriors and strength in their arms. I come here to watch the soldiers, to make them stronger.”

Jason was a little amused to know that the guards at the Trevelyan estate were being watched by a spirit who admired their abilities. Perhaps he could use this to his advantage. “If I am to fight this demon, it would be good to know that I could have a comrade I could depend on. Will you help me defeat my foe?”

Fortitude didn’t seem as moved as Jason had expected. “Why would I do that?” it asked. “This demon is your task, not mine.”

Jason thought quickly, “Because I am a warrior as well, since I have been tasked to fight a demon.”

The spirit relented. “You are correct, of course. Whether it is your choice or not, this task makes you a warrior as much as the others I watch.”

It was impossible to tell how long they spent looking for the demon that Jason was supposed to fight. They trekked all over the estate, and finally came to his parents’ quarters, the only place they hadn’t checked. At this point, Jason was curious to find out just what kind of demon would attempt to possess him, but more eager to simply defeat it and leave. He may draw power from the Fade, but he found that he actually kind of hated the place.

He opened the door and came face to face with a demon that had taken the form of Harriet, nearly a grown woman, now. She sat on the same couch that she had been on the day his parents announced he was going to the Circle. “Jason,” she said, “so good of you to come. Come here, sit with me.”

Jason remained standing where he was, completely unnerved by the fact that an image of his sister sat across from him. “I know what you are, demon,” he said. “Don’t think you can get away with imitating my sister.”

“But Jason,” she said, “I am your sister. I can be your whole family, if you want me to. You can stay here with us, you’d never have to leave again.”

The temptation was strong. How many times had he returned home for one reason or another and bitterly regretted having to return to the Circle tower afterwards because, deep down, he was different and that was never going to change? It was at that moment that Fortitude stepped in. “Remember why you came here, mortal,” it said. “This is a creature of desire, it will tempt you with your inner most longings.”

It was difficult to clear his head, but Fortitude’s influence seemed to give him the boost he needed. “No!” he shouted, “You’ll die, demon!”

Immediately he fired a stream of flame at the image of his sister and Fortitude followed with his great sword. The demon abandoned its disguise and assumed the form of a beautiful, if ethereal and somewhat monstrous woman with large breasts, a thin loin cloth, horns, and a tail. It fired back a debilitating hex towards Fortitude, leaving Jason momentarily alone. He didn’t back down and conjured a lightning bolt to paralyze the demon. What I would give to have a staff, he thought. Instead he took advantage of the demon’s immobilization to cast a fire mine under her feet. Fortitude saw it when it came to and managed to jump out of the way. The desire demon was not so lucky. The mine exploded and the demon seemed to burn away.

Fortitude came to him, now that the demon was gone. “You did well,” it said. “Even without my help, you might have been able to take this demon on your own.”

Jason was really in no mood to converse with anything from the Fade at this point. He was trying desperately not to hurl his guts out. “Yeah, well, thanks for helping out back there.” As he said this the world seemed to go white again and everything vanished before his eyes.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a short little insight into Harriet's life as a Templar recruit. Turns out it's not all it's cracked up to be and not all Templars are as benevolent as Mormont.
> 
> As always, thanks to my lovely beta, wonker8, who offered to proofread my work even though she's never been part of the Dragon Age fandom. Feel free to comment, criticize, etc.

Harriet’s years after Jason had left for the Circle of Magi were frustrating, to say the least. Upon being admitted to the Templar garrison in Ostwick when she turned 10, she immediately found that there were a great many instructors who were aware of her siblings in the Circle. Some of them were indifferent, but others singled her out as though her connections with mages made her ability to fulfill a Templar’s duties inferior. One of them, Knight-Lieutenant Vincent, practically sneered at her when he learned that she had a brother and sister in the Circle.

“I suppose we can expect you to be as soft as Mormont,” he said, his voice thin and nasally and grating. “The fool can never be expected to do his duty.”

Harriet’s face burned. “Is that why he’s out there guarding the mages and you’re here teaching recruits?” she asked.

The Knight-Lieutenant’s face grew red and his sneer attempted to contort into something resembling a scowl, as if he was attempting to do both at once. “And tell me, Knight-Recruit,” he drawled, “what would you know of a Templar’s duty?”

“Our duty is to protect the mages from themselves,” she said, “because magic is dangerous and the world will always have need of those who can oppose it.”

“Wrong,” he said, “Our duty is to keep the mages in line with Andraste’s will and keep them from taking over.” He turned to address the rest of the recruits. “Make no mistake, these mages want nothing more than to be free so they can enslave us like the Magisters of Tevinter. It is our blades and our ability to deny magic and our diligence that keeps mages from using their wretched, sinful powers to destroy us all.” He returned his attention to Harriet, “Your beloved siblings are just one moment away from becoming malificar and then it falls to you to put them down. If you don’t know that, perhaps you are unsuited for the Order, yes?”

Harriet wanted nothing more than to lash out, to strike him in any way she could, but she held her tongue. Remember our words, her mother had said, Modest in temper, bold in deed. She resolved to succeed just to spite this man.

That turned out to be easier said than done. The Templars seemed to believe that everyone who joined the Order was meant to be a warrior, in full plate armor wielding swords and shields or great swords. On their first day in the sparring ring, Harriet, who had not picked up a practice sword since the day Jason had left, was so handily defeated by a boy three years younger than her that everyone present laughed themselves to tears. Her instructor refused to listen to her objections and continued to drill her in sword forms until it was dark. She knew that the Templars had rogues, she just had to convince them that letting her practice stealth techniques and archery was a better use of their time than trying to teach her how to take a hit.

“What is the point of a shield anyway?” she demanded of her instructor after a day of trying and failing to achieve the basics of swordplay. “It’s not as if mages are going to pick up weapons, they would just use magic or lightning or ice. What use is a shield if it can’t deflect magic?”

Her instructor apparently took this as an invitation to lecture her on the philosophic symbolism of using a shield as a Templar. He droned for hours, martial training forgotten as he explained why shields were poetic, theological, metaphorical, and literal symbols of the Order and why that meant that Templars should always be trained to use shields so that they could serve the Maker in such ways. By the time he realized that she wasn’t paying any attention, she was already halfway to the dining hall.

The worst part about living in the Templar garrison was that, even though it was relatively close to the Circle tower, she felt like she saw Jason even less than she used to. As a result, Knight-Lieutenant Vincent had no shortage of ways to put her down, and the other Knight-Recruits listened to him. She had been in the garrison for about 5 months now, and she could say for certainty that the other recruits either disliked her because she was a noble or disliked her because she cared for the mages. If it wasn’t for Ser Mormont, she would be almost completely alone.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harriet has issues with the Templars. She finds some unexpected help. A familiar face enters her life for the first time.

“Come now, girl,” Ser Mormont said, “you look like someone’s put something sour in your tea.”

Harriet was sitting in the chapel at the Templar garrison, glaring up at the statue of Andraste. She came here on the bad days, when Knight-Lieutenant Vincent was especially cruel regarding the mages or when one of the other knights talked about killing abominations or killing mages because they might be plotting something. Most days were fine. She was the most skilled archer among their recruits and even Vincent had to admit grudgingly that her abilities would be an asset for the Order.

“Mother always said,” she began, “that Templars were meant to protect the people from the dangers of magic and protect mages from their own power.”

“Aye,” spoke Ser Mormont.

“But the more time I spend here, the more Templars I see who simply hate the mages and talk about hunting apostates and putting them down before they can do any harm.”

“There will always be those of cruel intentions,” Ser Mormont said, “Vincent was always a mean little bastard who likes beating smaller people who can’t fight back to make himself seem powerful.”

Harriet shifted her eyes from Mormont back to the statue of Andraste. She thought about her brother, a mage who could be killed if he made the wrong move in front of the wrong Templar. “But that is part of being a Templar, isn’t it?” she asked. “Killing mages, making them Tranquil, hunting down the ones who run away?”

“You know it is,” Mormont said gently.

“I’m not sure I want to be a Templar then.”

Mormont chuckled softly, “My sweet summer child,” he said, “you always put up a brave face for your family, but I always knew that your heart was perhaps too gentle for the life of a Templar.”

Harriet bit back the tears that came unbidden. “I wanted to be like mother,” she said, struggling to keep her voice even. “She’s the strongest person I know. Graceful, powerful, fearless, fierce, and noble.” She could picture it in her mind’s eye, her mother’s disappointment if she returned from the garrison. She could picture her as a young woman, in full Templar regalia as she would have been if her father had not captured her heart. Long flaming red hair flowing in wavy locks over her the leather armor of the Templar rogues, her ironbark bow in her hands and silverite daggers strapped to her sides. Her mother was the picture of the ideal noblewoman in the Chantry. 

Ser Mormont took her hand in his. “I remember when your mother was about to pledge herself to the Templar Order,” he said. “We were here together as recruits, you see. Your father had seen her at one of the balls that she was still required to attend not two months earlier and he was smitten. He wrote to her, sang songs, sent her flowers, wrote poetry---“

“He didn’t!” she protested.

Ser Mormont smiled, “He did. She burned all of it when they married. The Maker did not bless him with a silver tongue, let me tell you. Anyway, the evening before she was going to pledge herself to the Order about an hour before sundown, he broke in, came to her, and begged her not to. He promised to court her, to marry her, and give her a happy life if she would leave the Order.

Well, your mother has never been one to do anything for anyone who wasn’t worth her time, as you know. She refused. She told him that she could not abandon her duty to the Maker and that if he truly wanted her, he would have to duel her.”

Harriet’s eyes widened so much they threatened to pop out of her head, “She challenged him to a duel for her hand?”

“Indeed she did. He was shocked for a minute before he accepted. They made their way out to the sparring ring, where he retrieved a sword and shield and she her daggers.”

“Did he win?” she asked, uncertain that her father would have ever managed to accomplish something like that.

“She knocked him into the dirt in 30 seconds flat,” he said.

“But she still married him,” Harriet said, thoroughly confused at this point.

“Yes. She declared that for a man so hopeless with the sword and shield to accept her challenge so eagerly was sufficient proof of his sincerity. The next day she announced that she was leaving the Order.”

“What is the point of this story, exactly?” she asked.

Ser Mormont looked into her eyes very seriously. “Your mother left the Order for love of the man who would become her husband. If you would leave for the love of your brother, so that you will never be forced to choose between your duty and your family, Ambrose will understand.”

He rose from the pew where they had been sitting. “I must return to my post, now, recruit. I hope the Maker gives you whatever answer you’re seeking.”

“Thank you, Mormont,” she said.

Harriet decided that she needed to shoot something to clear her head and made her way to the training yard. Everything made more sense there. In the training yard there were no politics, no Templars, no mages. Just her, her bow, and the target. She drew the bowstring back to her cheek, focused on the target, and released. The arrow flew through the air, whistling softly as it sank into the target 20 yards away. It was a little to the left. She drew again, focused, and fired. This one was a bit higher than the last one. She repeated this process until she had exhausted her supply, then retrieved her arrows and started again.

“What if I could leave?” she thought. “What would I do? Could I join the Chantry? Could I just go home?” She ruminated as she shot arrow after arrow into her target. She thought about what her life as a Templar might mean if Jason and her were ever caught on opposite sides. Could she take up arms against him? Could she take up arms against other innocent mages who never did anything wrong if it came to that?

Harriet lost track of time in the training yard. When she suddenly realized that night was falling and she was hungry, she put her equipment away and turned to go to the mess hall. She was probably already too late for any food to still be there, but there was always a chance that she could still find something. She hurried through the corridors, rounded a corner, and ran straight into a Sister.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going,” she babbled, as flustered as could be.

“It is no trouble,” the sister said. “I’m afraid that if you’re going to the mess hall, you’re already too late.”

Harriet hissed in frustration. She had been denied lunch for “speaking out of turn” in front of Vincent that day, so she had not eaten since sunrise. If only she hadn’t been so caught up in her head after Mormont had talked to her that afternoon. The sister looked down at her. “The other sisters and I are about to take our own supper, why don’t you join us?”

Harriet looked up at her like this person had suddenly transformed into Andraste herself and thanked her profusely. She followed the priest to the humble quarters not unlike the quarters Harriet herself slept in with the other female recruits. It was a simple living space, the tan stone floors unadorned with rugs or carpets, just like the rest of the garrison. In the center of the room there was a table with six chairs for each of the sisters there, though there were only five sisters currently assigned to the garrison. The other sisters were talking with each other near the fireplace and, much to Harriet’s surprise, they seemed happy. They weren’t singing the Chant or discussing theology or the mages or Templars, they were simply enjoying each other’s company in the quiet evening and they seemed not at all surprised or disappointed that they had a guest.

That night she asked the sisters about their lives, how they had joined the Chantry, what they did as sisters at the garrison, and whatever else came to mind. They answered her questions with grace and patience.

“What about you,” the one she had run into that evening, Sister Willa, “I saw you talking to Ser Mormont in the chapel earlier. What brought you to the garrison?”

Harriet paused a moment. “Well, my family, the Trevelyans, promised me to the Chantry when I was a baby, and I always expected to join the Templars when I was old enough to join the garrison,” she said, “But honestly I’m beginning to wonder if I’m meant to become a Templar.”

“Why is that, if I may ask?” Sister Willa replied.

“Well…” Harriet said carefully, “My mother always told me that being a Templar was about protecting people, protecting the mages, but some of the people here just seem to hate them. Like, they relish the thought of hunting down mages or killing abominations.”

“Sounds like a man,” said one of the sisters, who was toasted by one of the others.

“And, I know people who are mages, and I wondered if I could actually kill them if I was called upon to do it…” she trailed off. “Is it bad of me to not want to kill people if I can avoid it?”

“Of course it isn’t,” Sister Willa said softly. “There are many people in the world who only think of what their own power can achieve, how much they can do with just their muscles or their money. The world has need of kind people.”

“But I also want to help protect the mages,” Harriet said. “Who protects them from Templars who are bad?”

Some of the sisters exchanged looks that Harriet didn’t notice at this.

“I just don’t know if I’m meant to be a Templar,” Harriet whispered.

Sister Willa looked at her thoughtfully for a moment and said, “It’s getting late, you should return to your dormitory.” Harriet thanked the sisters and departed, leaving the sisters behind. As they began to clean up the remains of their dinner, Sister Willa asked the others, “Do any of you actually think this girl is meant to be a Templar if she thinks this way?”

“Certainly not,” said one of the others. “But she’s certainly not meant to be a sister in the Chantry. I’ve seen her in the training yard. Someone with her potential shouldn’t be put in a cloister.”

Another sister nodded. “I will write to the Grand Cleric tonight. Lady Harriet Trevelyan is clearly meant to be more than a normal Templar.”

Three weeks later, a woman stood at the front of the room where Knight-Lieutenant Vincent usually was. Harriet thought she was striking. She had prominent cheekbones and black hair that was carefully braided to keep out of her face in combat. She wore a shield on her back and a sword at her side and Vincent seemed terrified of her.

“I’m here for Harriet Trevelyan,” the woman announced. Her voice was heavily Nevarran in origin. Harriet stood up, “I am she.”

“My name is Cassandra Pentaghast,” she said. “Seeker of the Chantry and Right Hand of the Divine, and you have been assigned to be my apprentice.”

“What’s a Seeker?” she asked before belatedly adding, “It’s an honor, my lady.”

Cassandra huffed. “There’s no need for that,” she said. “We are the order that supervises the Templars and that will suffice for now. The sisters here recommended you to the Seekers and I have been assigned to train you. I will explain the rest to you on our way back to the Grand Cathedral, if you accept.”

“You oversee the Templars?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Cassandra shortly. “If you would know more, you must come with me. The secrets of our order are not such to discuss publicly.”

Harriet’s mind raced about a mile a minute. She could protect the mages without being directly opposed to them. She could protect them from the people who were supposed to protect them.

“I do accept,” she said.

Cassandra’s severe look softened as she smiled. “Welcome, then.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized that I'm a week late. Family graduating will do that, I guess. Also, it's officially Pride month, so happy Pride to all the LGBTQIA+ people of the world! I'll post two chapters to make up for it and next week I'll post as I was originally scheduled to. Thanks as always to wonker8, my lovely little beta.

Jason woke from his Harrowing ritual with Templars huddled around him, blinking a few times as he returned to the world of flesh and blood and clearing his mind of the dizzying world of the Fade. The Templars with frowned, some of them with hands on the hilt of their blades. One of them sneered down at him, as if he was disappointed that Jason had passed his Harrowing and would become a full mage. Jason moved to stand and the Templars stepped back, apparently satisfied that he was not possessed. He looked around until he found the First Enchanter, and walked over. She was smiling, as though she was proud of him even though he had never had a lesson from her in all the time he had been in the tower.

“It is done,” she said, “welcome to the Circle of Magi.”

Jason was still too exhausted to do anything more than nod in reply. The First Enchanter continued, “I understand, the Harrowing is an ordeal, but one we must all go through. Come see me in the morning and we will formally raise you to the Circle of Magi.”

Jason nodded once more and followed her down the stairs, leaving the Harrowing chamber and the Templars behind. He silently ran through the event in his mind. Seeing the Fade version of his estate, allying with a spirit, facing a demon that offered to become his surrogate family, his sisters, brothers, and parents... he was repulsed by the very thought. Even worse, the Circle made every mage go through this. He understood the necessity of it, in the rational part of his mind, but at the moment he merely felt like going to the baths and scrubbing every inch of his body, hoping that hot water and scented soap could cleanse the feeling of that demon tempting him. He had wanted it. Even with all his privileges as a noble in the Circle, even with all of his friends and family who were part of his life here, he still wished in the still moments of the silent night that he could have remained with his family somehow. 

As he turned to enter the apprentices’ dormitory for the last time, he looked up at the top bunk, where Garos still slept, silent as the grave. He smiled in amusement. His friend might be energetic and full of infectious enthusiasm, but when he slept, not even the Maker himself could rouse him. At least he didn’t snore. Jason had just enough energy to change out of his apprentice robes before he almost literally fell into bed and passed out.

 

Jason heard excited chattering, whispers, and Garos’ infectious snorting laugh as his senses rudely decided to attend to the waking world. He groaned and rolled over, right onto the stone floor.

“Ow, shit!” he shouted, now fully awake and aware that his audience was laughing at him.

Garos helped him up. “You know,” he said, grinning, “for someone who apparently passed the super-secret Harrowing last night, you don’t seem to have become any more graceful.”

Jason grinned back before yawning loudly. “Whatever, I’m still prettier than you. That’s why I got picked to do it first.”

“You wound me,” Garos drawled. “First Enchanter Lananna wants to see you as soon as you’re awake.”

“Good,” Jason yawned, “that gives me a couple hours to eat, drink tea, and bathe, maybe not in that order.” With that, the crowd began to disperse, eager to get to the mess hall in time to eat before morning classes. Garos was the only one to remain behind.

“So…” he began. The question was hanging in the air like one of the buckets Garos hung over doors. “What was it like?”

Jason sighed, “Garos, you know I can’t tell you.”

Garos’ grin remained undimmed, “Aw, you know how me and rules get along.”

Jason smiled in spite of himself as he changed, turning his back on him as he did so. Garos took the opportunity to silently admire his best friend. He had for years harbored feelings for his best friend. He was kind, unassuming, smart, and extremely gifted with magic. And he had a fantastic ass. Garos had decided about a year ago that Jason’s butt made robes both necessary and disappointing. Whatever noble line Jason came from, he had inherited a good build. In a couple years he would become even more attractive. 

Jason apparently decided that he wanted to have a bath more than he wanted food, so he had grabbed soap and a towel. He turned to Garos, “Coming?”

Garos flushed, once again thankful for his ebony skin. He noticed what Jason’s paler skin did when he blushed and he thought he would be mortified if Jason ever caught him with that look on his face, red as a tomato and just as eloquent. He grinned his signature grin, grabbed a towel and soap, and followed him to the baths.

As they walked, Jason couldn’t help but think of how different they would have seemed outside of the tower. Garos had the darkest skin he’d ever seen, whereas he was slightly tan, but still pale. Garos had long, black dreads down to his shoulders, whereas Jason’s blond hair was kept short and curly. Garos had a slender build, whereas he had inherited the broad frame of the warriors in his family. Garos’ eyes were the color of coffee, whereas his eyes were aquamarine. Garos was fantastic with Spirit magic and ice, whereas Jason was gifted with Creation and fire. They were different in every way, but they were the best of friends. 

They arrived at the baths and entered the changing room. They stripped as they had done countless times before, but now Jason was a mage, and Garos still an apprentice. He knew better than to bring it up, though, as Garos’ talent with ice magic was generally handy when they were surrounded by water. Garos, never one to slow down for anything hurried into the baths and practically jumped into the nearest basin, splashing water over the stone floors. Jason laughed and hurried into the warm water, sighing as it seeped into his bones and lulled him into a contented lull. At this point in the morning the baths were nearly empty, since most mages in the tower followed less strict schedules than the apprentices. Those who didn’t have to teach in the morning either slept in or simply began working on whatever research they were involved in as soon as they were awake. Today there were only a couple of other mages there. The Templars had their own baths, since officially fraternization between mages and Templars was frowned upon and apparently seeing each other’s naked bodies tended to give people ideas. 

Nearby Garos had submerged in the water to soak his dreads, as apparently they required a bit more particular upkeep than his own curls. He took the soap and began to actually wash himself. Garos emerged and moved over to him, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“So come on,” he whispered, “what can you tell me? I’m dying to know!”

Jason rolled his eyes. “I should have known that you wouldn’t actually drop it,” he replied. “One day your curiosity is going to get the better of you. Or me.”

He snorted, “You’re evading the question.”

“And you’re stubborn,” he sighed and began to think of what he could actually tell him, if anything.

Garos laid a hand on his shoulder, looking every bit the earnest youth that he was. His large eyes brimmed with excitement, curiosity, and something else Jason couldn’t seem to name. Like when Garos looked at him he seeing something different than how Jason saw himself.

“Jason…” Garos whispered. He was close now. He often ignored physical boundaries unless people specifically asked him to, but this was different. They were alone, naked, Jason was flushed with the heat, and Garos wanted, yearned to make a move, to close the distance between them, to embrace, kiss, and do all sorts of things he wanted to try with him. He pulled away.

“What?” Jason asked. “Was it something I said?”

Garos forced a grin on his face. “Nah, don’t worry about it. Tell me about the Harrowing!”

Jason shrugged. “There’s really not much to tell. Plus, it’s a secret for a reason.”

Garos sniggered. “Yeah, the secret ritual everyone knows about within a few months of actually arriving to the Circle. The only things secret about it are the people who don’t return and the actual ritual itself.”

“We all got horribly drunk, then there was an orgy, and then the First Enchanter said that I was clearly proficient enough to be a mage of the Circle.”

Garos threw his head back and laughed, “Eww don’t use the words ‘orgy’ and ‘First Enchanter’ in the same sentence like that!” he hissed. “It sounds like one of the trashy scenarios from one of those books my mentor lent me to teach me about sex.”

Jason cringed. “Senior Enchanter Yvette’s erotica…” He and several others in the dorm had read it and laughed at the absurdity of it even as it completely fascinated them. It became a sensation among the apprentices for a few months. Jason had even showed it to Katheryn once, who attempted valiantly to remain dignified, but ended up laughing loudly in the library at the descriptions. 

They left about half an hour later, time escaping them as it usually did when they were alone. When they were done putting their things away, Garos grabbed Jason’s hand and practically dragged him to the mess hall. No matter that Jason no longer had lessons to attend, Garos wanted to have at least a little time to eat something before meeting his mentor.


	13. Chapter 13

Not a week later, Garos passed his own Harrowing, and thus began the years of disquiet in the Circle. Rumors that Grey Wardens would come to recruit mages and Templars to fight the Blight in Ferelden were all of a sudden replaced with news that the Blight had been defeated and Wardens Alistair and Cousland had ascended to become King and Queen of Ferelden in its wake. Ferelden was officially the first nation in known history to be ruled by Grey Wardens. Three years later, the Qunari occupying Kirkwall decided to stage a hostile takeover and the only reason they were stopped was because of a new Champion, someone named Marcus Hawke, who apparently defeated the Arishok in single combat.   
Over the next few years, stories out of Kirkwall became more and more troubling. According to some, blood mages and abominations seemed to turn up every week, mages were fleeing the Circle and becoming malificarum, terrorizing the city’s inhabitants. Others said the Templars in Kirkwall were becoming paranoid, that Knight-Commander Meredith saw blood mages and demons behind every corner, that the Templars were making mages Tranquil if they spoke out against their actions. Even the Ostwick Circle, usually a quiet place where mages dedicated their lives to learning, was growing tense. Mages and Templars kept their distance and eyed each other, locked in a wary dance, daring the other to make a move, to find a fault. 

Even Garos, bright, happy-go-lucky Garos, was a bit subdued and self-conscious. Jason continued to confide in Ser Mormont, but he was the only one Jason trusted without question. He was also a Knight-Captain and helped to keep the other, more headstrong Templars in line. The silent dance continued until the unspeakable happened in Kirkwall. An apostate mage had destroyed the Chantry, killing hundreds, and Knight-Commander Meredith invoked the Rite of Annulment. The Champion of Kirkwall stood against her, saving many of the mages. In the weeks to come, some of them made their way to the Ostwick Circle, where there was much debate among the Templars as to whether they should accept or execute them. The Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter ultimately decided to accept them into the Circle, leading to even more animosity between the Templars and mages. Other Circles began to rebel, and even the Ostwick Circle had rumors of rebelling against the Templars. In response, the Templars moved to place further restraints on the mages, confining some to their quarters, or forbidding them from pursuing their studies unless at least two Templars were present.  
Then came the news of the White Spire rebellion. The Circle at the White Spire in Val Royeaux rebelled against its Templars after Lord Seeker Lambert ordered his Templars to attack a conclave of First Enchanters discussing succeeding from the Chantry. The news came a week later. First Enchanter Lananna had died in the fighting. Jason, Garos, and Katheryn were in the library researching ways to better cast a barrier spell when the news came. Ser Mormont hurried up to them in a panic.

“You must all come with me now,” he hissed quietly.

Jason heard shouting in the distance. Not like the usual shouting that sometimes happened in heated debates, or the kind that ever more commonly happened between quarreling mages and Templars. This sounded more like a riot. A cold knot of dread began to curl in his chest. He turned and saw Garos looking at him with an expression he had never before seen on his friend’s face: fear.

Katheryn was the first to collect herself. “Mormont, what’s happening,” she demanded.

“There’s no time, we need to get you all out of here,” he said. “The White Spire Circle rebelled, the conclave of First Enchanters was attacked, First Enchanter Lananna is dead. The Templars moved to return all the mages to your quarters. They refused. The Ostwick Circle is rebelling.”

“How do you propose we do that,” asked Jason. “Is there a secret passage out of here or some other way that involves avoiding all the Templars and mages fighting outside?”

Ser Mormont shook his head. “The only way out is forward,” he said. “I’ll protect you.”

“You want us to fight the Templars?” Garos burst out.

“I want you all to live,” he hissed. The fighting was beginning to get louder, explosions, lightning, the sounds of swords escaping their sheaths, and shouting becoming more prominent in the once quiet library.

Jason nodded. “If we’re leaving we best do it quickly.” He grabbed his staff and stuffed his grimoire into a pack and went over to stand by Mormont. Garos and Katheryn soon followed suit. “Mormont, you take point. We can’t block swords and the Templars can cancel our barriers. I’ll stay close to you, since I’ve been learning Knight-Enchanter abilities. Katheryn, keep us protected with barriers and Garos, watch our backs. Hit them as hard as you can.”

“You can count on us,” Garos said.

Mormont nodded and led them out of the library, his sword and shield drawn and prepared to move into a defensive position. Jason felt the magic pulse within him and readied a barrier spell, knowing that there was no way they could escape without using every bit of magical lore they knew, and even then, it might not be enough.

 

As soon as Mormont opened the door of the library they were met with four other Templars. Mormont raised his shield and parried a blow with practiced ease. Jason cast his barrier spell after a second’s hesitation, just in time for it to block another Templars strike. He lashed out with his staff, summoning lightning to shock the Templar, who screamed and collapsed in a smoking heap. Jason nearly vomited at the smell of burning flesh. He heard another to his right freeze and knew that Garos was watching his back, like he’d asked. Nearby, he saw Mormont thrust his sword into his opponent’s chest and rose his left foot up to kick him off his sword. Blood poured from his wound and onto the floor and Jason felt the demons on the other side of the Veil whispering. The blood was there, it would be so easy to use it. He shook his head and summoned a glyph of fire under the feet of the last Templar, setting his uniform on fire. As the Templar ran around, his armor burning, Katheryn summoned a stone and hurled it with her staff into his chest sending him flying to the floor.

Jason looked down at the bodies of the Templars, every inch of his body shaking. Nearby Garos and Katheryn looked similarly distraught. If not for Mormont urging them to keep moving, they would have remained there until more Templars came their way. There was fighting everywhere. The mess hall was, from what they could tell, a slaughterhouse. Corpses of mages and Templars alike littered the ground, though it seemed that the mages had managed to keep the upper hand with the benefit of their magic.

“Shouldn’t we help them,” Katheryn shouted to be heard over the din of the fighting.

“Do you want to take the time to explain to every mage fighting that this one Templar is on our side?” Jason shot back. That delay earned them the attention from another group of Templars, some of them archers.

“Shit!” shouted Garos. Jason silently concurred and he cast another barrier spell around him and Mormont. One of the Templars charged him and he tried to summon the spirit blade from the Knight-Enchanter texts he had been studying. It worked. Sort of. It was more of a wispy dagger, really. Jason snarled and instead sent flashfire on his opponent, the Templar succumbing to panic. Jason finished him off with another fire glyph. One of the archers was frozen just as Katheryn’s stonefist spell slammed into him. Mormont managed to knock his opponent down with his shield bash and stabbed him in the chest while he was down. The other archer was trying desperately to get one of his arrows to penetrate Jason’s barrier, to no avail. Jason rose his staff and released a barrage of flaming missiles that converged on the Templar, burning his leather armor and ruining his bow. Mormont put him out of his misery.

They reached the dormitories and found, blessedly, that many of the apprentices were still alive, huddling in the dorms. Some were praying, others were simply terrified. 

“Quick,” Jason said, “we need to get the children to safety.”

“We’re helping them but we can’t help the other mages?” Katheryn asked, scowling at him. “I saw Senior Enchanter Lydia fighting one of her own apprentices! We could have helped them!”

“We don’t have time for this,” Jason hissed, “You and Mormont go to the girls’ dormitory, Garos and I will get the boys.”

Katheryn made to argue, but Mormont put his hand on her shoulder and shook his head. 

“He’s right, Katheryn,” he said, “What we could have done can wait until we’re out of danger. The apprentices need us, now, or would you leave children to face the wrath of Templars or whatever the mages unleash?”

Katheryn hesitated, then nodded and headed toward the girls’ dorm with Mormont following close behind.  
They convened in the hall afterwards, where they heard a horrible, unholy noise. Jason whipped his head around to see something horribly disfigured in the tattered remains of a mage’s robes. An abomination.

“Garos, take the children and go! Get them to safety! Katheryn, Mormont, let’s distract it.”

“Distracting it won’t do, boy,” Mormont bellowed. “Kill it!”

The abomination rushed toward them. The children screamed and followed Garos out of the halls while the three of them turned to face this new enemy. Katheryn looked nauseous. Jason understood the feeling, but he prepared the barrier spell anyway. They would all get out of here alive. They had to.

The abomination attacked with monstrous claws. Jason was barely able to get the barrier up in time to shield them from the attack. Mormont struck out quickly, aiming for the chest, as the abomination seemed to have no protection. The blow glanced off, the mutated skin apparently tougher than normal.

“Katheryn, see if you can hurt it with one of your rocks!” shouted Jason.

“I’m on it!” she shot back. A moment later she sent a rock that shattered on impact with the abomination. It staggered backward a couple feet, then roared and renewed its attack. Jason summoned a lightning bolt to paralyze it, and it worked. The creature froze mid strike, crackling with electricity and Mormont slammed into it with his shield. The electricity discharged, but the barrier held. The abomination looked weak and Jason pressed the attack. He focused and conjured another fire glyph, hoping to set the creature ablaze.

It worked, kind of. Whatever demon possessed this mage, it clearly didn’t mind being on fire. Mormont pressed the advantage, and Katheryn cast a defensive spell over him. The abomination attacked again with its claws, slashing at Mormont’s armor. Jason was suddenly grateful that the Templars were supposed to be in full armor whenever they were on duty. The armor held long enough for Jason to cast another barrier around them. Mormont renewed his attack, finally managing to pierce the abomination’s skin in chest. It fell to the ground and combusted, the flesh burning away.

Jason relaxed against a wall his chest heaving trying to catch his breath. Katheryn had her hands on her knees doing the same. Even Mormont seemed tired after the fight. 

“Alright, now that that’s done with,” Mormont said after a moment, “let’s go find Garos and the apprentices. We should get them out of here.”

Jason couldn’t agree more.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The escape from the tower is complete, the band of Trevelyans and Co. set out to figure out what the hell to do. Reunions happen, plans are made, and Jason is a bit clueless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since it's now summer, I'll be switching to weekly updates. Hurray! (Seriously, yall I don't know how anyone could do weekly updates while they're in school. Although having a creative outlet does help with the academic stuff, oddly enough.) As always, thanks to my lovely beta wonker8 and to all my readers (whoever you are). Comments/constructive critiques are always welcome.

They emerged from the hall to the chamber containing the Circle’s set of large doors designed to keep mages in, currently closed. When they arrived, Garos ran to Jason and threw himself at the human with a fierce hug.

 

“I was so worried! Are you alight? What happened? Is the abomination dead?” he asked frantically.

“We’re alright. Yes, it’s dead,” Jason replied, still spent from the fight itself. “We should get out of here before more of those things show up.”

“You think there will be more?” Garos asked, his eyes narrowed with skepticism.

Ser Mormont strode up to the doors amidst the children. “If one mage turned into an abomination in this brawl, there will doubtless be more,” he said. “We must leave here before demons find a way to come in on their own.” Mormont found the mechanism that opened the door and directed Katheryn to get the one on the other side. Gears cranked and the doors opened, thankfully not to the sight of Templars and the adults led the apprentices out of the Circle tower, with Katheryn taking the rear to ensure there weren’t any stragglers. Garos joined Jason and Mormont at the front. The three of them started making plans as they walked.

“Where are we taking them,” he asked. “We can’t exactly take a carriage big enough for all of them, unless you’ve learned how to fly and plan on teaching us all?”

Jason gave him a thin smile, “You’re right. We’re out of the Circle, now. We need to figure out what’s next.”

Mormont stroked his beard for a moment. “Whatever we do,” he said, “We have to go to Ostwick first.”

“Ostwick?” Jason asked.

“It wouldn’t have been my first choice, that’s for sure,” Garos muttered.

“I know,” Mormont replied. “But unless someone here knows how to care for a hundred or two children by living off the land, we need to get supplies and the only place near enough to us to get supplies is Ostwick.”

“Can we take care of this many apprentices,” asked Jason. “Even if we find supplies, where are we going to go? As large as the Trevelyan estate is, it can’t support that many children, and I doubt the family will relish becoming the replacement Circle.”

“He’s right,” Garos said. “We’re technically apostates, now, so the Chantry won’t help us. The nobles won’t risk being seen as sympathizers, so they won’t help us. And the common people fear us.”

“The Trevelyans might give us some assistance because Katheryn, Jason, and I are family,” Mormont mused, “But whatever help they give will be temporary.”

“Then it sounds like what we need is to find out where all the mages who’ve rebelled are heading,” Jason said.

The three of them stayed quiet until they reached the outskirts of Ostwick. Jason, Garos, and Katheryn did their best to help reassure the apprentices that Mormont meant them no harm. Some were crying, others started fighting, many were simply quiet and afraid. Jason soon realized that the three of them would have been in over their heads had it not been for some of the older apprentices. They knew the younger ones better than the mages did. One of them was Katheryn’s apprentice and she helped console the youngest there. Had the Circles not rebelled, Jason thought she would have made a fine mentor one day.

They made quite a sight. More than a hundred mages walking through the streets of the city led by a Templar. Some of the common whipjacks stopped their griping to scowl at them, but backed down at the sight of a Templar. Though because no one stopped to cornobble them, Jason assumed that the Circle’s rebellion wasn’t yet common knowledge. Thank the Maker for small mercies, he thought.

Eventually they made to the Trevelyan estate, where a rather flustered guard clearly wasn’t expecting such a large crowd to make an appearance at the gates. Mormont actually had to threaten him with Great-Aunt Lucille before he let them all through the gates.

Ambrose met them in the foyer, bringing a small army of servants. “What’s this, what’s happening?” she asked before directing her servants to tend to the children.  
Katheryn was the first to speak. “The Ostwick Circle has rebelled. Mormont was able to get to us in time to get us out safely, and we were able to rescue the apprentices from the fighting. It was a close thing for a while.”

Mormont spoke up next, “We received word that the conclave at the White Spire ended in rebellion a week ago. I was hoping your contacts in Orlais would know more.”  
Lady Ambrose nodded, “Circles have been rebelling all over southern Thedas. The Templars are scrambling to organize to go after the mages, but so far they seem as confused as the rest of us. The Seekers of Truth seem to be encouraging the Templars, taking direct control of them to lead them against the mages, rather than attempting to restore order on both sides.”

Everyone was quiet for a while after that. Jason was reeling. He could never have imagined that the Circle would revolt so completely as it had. Certainly the Ostwick Circle had been one of the most peaceful Circles as far as he had heard. There had still been voices of dissent, but they had always been exactly that: voices. They spoke, advocated for change, but not for taking up arms against the Templars themselves. And yet, it had risen up in rebellion, just like all the other Circles.  
Lady Ambrose broke the silence. “You four get some rest. You all look like you need it. We will do our best to care for you all here, but later we must decide what you will do from here.” Garos, Mormont, and Katheryn turned away, each going in their own separate directions. Jason turned to follow before his mother stopped him. “A moment, son,” she said.

“Yes mother?”

“Harriet has returned from Val Royeaux. She will be glad to see you, I’m sure, and she may know some more about what’s happening than what I’ve heard on my own.”

Jason’s eyes widened and he smiled, really smiled for the first time that day. “Where can I find her? When did she return?”

Ambrose smiled fondly at her son. “She returned early this afternoon. She apparently rode day and night to get here, hoping to help before the Circle rebelled.”

Jason gave a sad smile. “It still doesn’t seem real, mother.”

“I know,” she replied. “None of us were expecting this, but you kept your head under pressure and you did your family proud.” She laid one of her hands on his cheek. Her face had more lines on it now, but to Jason she still looked every inch the formidable, devout, caring woman he had grown up with as a child. “I’m glad you all made it out safely. I tried not to fear the worst, but mothers can’t seem to help it.”

Jason smiled and embraced her. “I love you, too, Mother.”

She returned the embrace fiercely for a moment, then let him go. “Go find Harriet. I need to go talk to Katheryn.” Jason could have sworn that there were tears in her eyes, but didn’t dare mention it for fear that she would defenestrate him by his ear.  
He didn’t need to ask where Harriet was. With all that had happened in the Chantry for the past few months, there was really only one place for her to be. He headed for the training grounds.

Sure enough, as soon as he reached the grounds, he spied a tall woman with long, golden curls similar to his own taking aim at the archery targets with a longbow. As soon as he drew close, she turned around to face him, smiling. He ran right up to her and caught her in a hug. “How long’s it been, Harriet? Five years?! In Val Royeaux?! You really ought to write more.”

Harriet laughed into the embrace. “As if I had time to write more often than once a month,” she replied. “The Seekers keep me pretty busy, even more so with the state of the Chantry.” 

“Imagine the envy if the other noble families knew,” Jason quipped as he released her. “A daughter in the Seekers of Truth. That would be almost enough to ignore the two children in the Circle.”

She hit him lightly on the arm, “Arse,” she grinned as Jason feigned injury.

“Speaking of the Seekers,” Jason said, “Why aren’t you with the rest of them? Aren’t you all supposed to be leading the Templars or something?”

Harriet’s face grew solemn. “Lord Seeker Lambert is looking to declare war against the mages. Most of the Seekers will fall in line behind him, but some of us disagree with this whole debacle. Cassandra Pentagast has elected to remain by the Divine’s side through all this.”

“Do you know where the other mages are going?” he asked.

Harriet nodded. “The mages who have already rebelled are taking refuge at Andoral’s Reach in Orlais, including the Grand Enchanter and the First Enchanters who survived the White Spire.”

“I guess that’s where we need to go, then,” Jason said.

Harriet laid a hand on his shoulder. “Be reasonable, Jason, you can’t just go to Andoral’s Reach. The Templars will almost certainly march there as soon as they catch wind of it. If all the mages go there, there will be blood before the end.”

“Harriet,” he replied, “you be reasonable. We have more than a hundred apprentice mages here, at least. We haven’t even had time to do a head count. We can’t stay here. Even the Trevelyans can’t support that many people indefinitely.”

Harriet sighed. “I know. It’s the only place to go, at this point, unless you know some other conveniently abandoned fortresses other than the former Circle towers.”

Jason nodded sadly. “Come,” he said, “It’s getting late and we need to find a map and make a plan before any of us go anywhere.”

Harriet looked at him. “You know I’m coming with you, right?’’ she asked.

Jason sighed. “I had a feeling you were going to say that,” he said as he turned to go indoors. All things considered, he was glad that she would be joining them. They needed all the help they could get at the moment.

 

Something regarding a family gathering took place in the drawing room after they had managed to feed the apprentices. Lady Ambrose and Lord Havard sat together on one couch, Jason and Harriet on another, Ser Mormont sat in a chair near the hearth, and Garos and Katheryn sat on the last remaining sofa. Together, the seven of them drafted a plan for the mages to head toward the refuge of Andoral’s Reach. 

“How long will it take to procure the supplies necessary?” asked Mormont.

“For this many people,” Lord Havard said, “I would guess a week.”

Lady Ambrose nodded her assent. “You will all need bedrolls, unless the apprentices would like to sleep directly on the ground. Autumn is just here, and if you want to reach Andoral’s Reach before the cold settles in, you’ll need to leave sooner rather than later.”

“Tomorrow morning,” Katheryn interjected, “I will go to the marketplace with Garos and see about collecting the supplies we need. With luck they will have enough to meet our needs.”

Ambrose nodded again, “Good. I’ll also get the servants to get about making some themselves. It will go faster and easier if we make as many as we can ourselves.”

Jason jumped in. “There’s likely not much we can do about foodstuffs,” he said, “We’ll have to find grocers and by dried food in bulk for the journey.”

“No avoiding that,” Harriet agreed. “Finding food on the way is always possible, provided we can hunt enough for this many people.”

“You’ll all simply have to tighten your belts, I’m afraid,” Lady Ambrose said gravely.

“The next question,” Garos said, “Is how we’re going to transport all these supplies. If we could find a caravan going to the Reach or even hire one, it would save a lot of trouble. Otherwise, the older apprentices and the five of us will become pack mules. And I don’t know about the rest of you, but I haven’t spent the last decade of my life developing my muscles for cross-country excursions.”

Lady Ambrose considered this for a moment. “He’s right. A caravan would be the most practical option, unless we want to also buy a small army of horses and ponies to carry the supplies.”

“It would work,” Harriet added, “Andoral’s Reach lies on the northern road from Val Royeaux. If we take the main road to the capital, it will be all the easier for us to reach the fortress.”

“It would also make us easier targets for bandits,” Katheryn pointed out. “Bandits are always a problem, even more so during times of war and chaos.”

“Ultimately,” Jason said, “this discussion is moot unless there happens to be someone among us who can traverse the landscape without getting lost.”

“So it’s decided,” Lady Ambrose declared. “Tomorrow we will begin procuring the necessary supplies. Overmorrow, we shall begin laying the groundworks for hiring a caravan to take you all to Andoral’s Reach. May the Maker watch over us all.”

They turned to leave, everyone eager to get some rest after the long day. Jason fell into step with Garos as they left, Lady Ambrose having apparently decided that he and Jason would share a room and Harriet and Katheryn would share a room. Jason led him in silence until they got to Jason’s childhood room.

When they got there, Garos looked around, wide eyed as he had been with much of the rest of the estate. “You slept in here?” he asked.

Jason shrugged. “Yeah, this room was for Harriet and me until I got sent to the Circle. I still stayed here on the nights when I would visit.”

Garos whistled. “In the alienage, I never imagined anything so fine as the Circle and you gave up so much.”

Jason shrugged again. “I suppose I did. You never know what you have until its gone, as they say.”

Garos chuckled. “No kidding.”

Jason took off his robes and went about changing into something more comfortable to sleep in. He sat on his bed and laid down across it, staring up at the ceiling. 

“What on earth has the world come to?” he mused.

He heard the sounds of Garos changing out of his own robes. “If you ask me,” he said, “it’s come to the shithole it was always going to get to eventually.” Garos joined him on the opposite side, lying so that his head was next to Jason’s.

“You’re probably right,” Jason said. “As much as we might have liked the Circle, there were plenty of others who made their displeasure known, even in our Circle.”

Garos didn’t reply right away. Jason had learned early on that when Garos was upset by something, he either hid it under his humor and bright attitude, or he kept quiet about it entirely. He couldn’t be pushed into talking about these things, he got to them in his own time, in his own way.

“Do you think the Circles will ever return to the way they were?” Jason asked.

Garos laughed. “Sure, as soon as Arlathan is rebuilt and the dwarves take back all of their lost thaigs and the Grey Wardens eliminate all darkspawn for good.”

“You never know,” Jason said, “Any of those things could happen. All of them! Why not the Circles?”

“Because,” Garos said, turning on his stomach to look at Jason, “sometimes things happen that are so momentous in how they change things, that they can never truly be undone. The Exalted March against the Dalish Elves destroyed everything they built, and now all the elves are either servants or nomads. The darkspawn changed the world forever, if they can ever be fully eradicated, it would take many more Grey Wardens many generations to do it. The dwarves could reclaim what they lost, but even if they did, they don’t have the numbers to hold it. Some things are simply lost forever when they cease to be.”

“So what about the Circle,” Jason said, looking up at him. Sometimes it seemed that Garos had some hidden pool of wisdom that allowed him to see the world more clearly and more broadly than Jason could. His friend was truly one in a thousand.

“If the Circles do return, it will be because the mages lose this war that’s about to start. That means that lots of mages will end up dead before the rest surrender. The Templars would have to impose new restrictions to prevent a repeat rebellion and no one would be happy.”

Jason thought about it for a moment. “What if the mages won?” he asked.

Garos was quiet for a moment as he looked down at Jason before he spoke. “Then it falls to us to come up with a viable alternative to the Circle, unless we suddenly learned that there would be no more mages. It’s not as if mages would be able teach themselves how to master their abilities.”

“Sometimes I think you’re too smart for your own good.” Jason teased as he stretched out his arms over his head.

Garos grinned down at him. “I know, it’s a curse.” Garos shifted back onto his back and took Jason’s hand in his own, something they hadn’t done since they had been children, new to the Circle and finding comfort any way they could. Jason and Garos had become friends because they balanced each other out. Over the years, each of them found the other’s presence grounding. Jason was grateful for his friend, his first and best friend. He drifted soon drifted off to a fitful sleep, his fear of the future somewhat lessened with the knowledge that his friend and family would be there to help each other.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These next few chapters will focus on Harriet and what she's been up to since she was recruited into the Seekers. As I've been sick these past few weeks and gotten behind on this story in general, this chapter has not been betaed by my lovely friend, wonker8. Comments, grammar errors, and constructive criticisms are always welcome.

9:24 Dragon

Whatever Harriet would have expected from training to become a Seeker of Truth, travelling to Val Royeaux was definitely not it. And if she had been a betting woman, she would have bet that her instructor, Cassandra Pentagast, would have immediately started drilling her in sword play. Maker knew that Cassandra was probably one of the strongest people she had ever seen. She carried her sword and shield with the sure confidence that she saw so frequently in her own mother.

Cassandra admittedly had no pointers for Harriet’s archery. She preferred the directness of her sword and shield. That didn’t seem to matter, though, as Cassandra had yet to even mention any martial training when talking about the Seekers of Truth. In fact, there was an annoying amount of theology and religious teaching involved. Harriet now knew more of the Canticle of Erudition than she had ever wanted to know before. The Chantry in Ostwick tended to prefer singing from the Canticle of Threnodies or the Canticle of Exaltation. Even then, Harriet had at best, a spotty knowledge of the Chant of Light and from her desk in the Grand Cathedral, she figured she could just listen to the priests, who never. Stopped. Singing.

“Why do I even need to know this, Cassandra?” she demanded one day in Cassandra’s wing of the Divine’s residence. “I get that we’re in the Grand Cathedral and you’re Right Hand of Divine Beatrix, but why do I need to know all this?”

Cassandra’s face was as unsympathetic and unmoved as the iron of her shield. “What were you expecting, exactly?” she demanded. “Normally you would be at one of the Seeker fortresses, like Therinfal Redoubt in Ferelden. But my duties as Right Hand dictate that I remain here unless the Divine needs me to be elsewhere. Did you expect sword drills on the road? Mile long runs through a forest?

“No. We are Seekers of Truth, so you will learn the truth of the Chant of Light. Templars are the military arm of the Chantry. We oversee them. Knowing how to fight is part of that, but even more crucial, Seekers must seek the will of the Maker and the only way to know what that is and what to look for in the real world is by studying the Chant.”

Harriet grumbled. “We still do mile long runs.”

Cassandra rolled her eyes. “Stop exaggerating,” she reprimanded. “You’re 10. Half a mile is more reasonable. We’ll start mile long runs next year.”

Harriet groaned as her head fell to the desk in front of her. This woman was a demon. She didn’t deserve this.

Harriet’s first few months in Val Royeaux passed in such a fashion for the most part. Cassandra proved to be a tough but fair mentor. She never compromised, never relented. If Cassandra had to leave the capital to do business for Divine Beatrix III, Harriet went with her. Cassandra’s tutelage focused mostly on the Chant and Chantry history. They discussed and debated theology, philosophy, Chantry policy and politics and most days Harriet left her lessons feeling like her brain might melt out of her ears.

Unfortunately, Cassandra’s solution to mental exhaustion was physical training, which, while emphasized, was no less rigorous. Harriet was too exhausted for the first month to even think about picking up her bow and quiver. Her only solace was that she wasn’t Cassandra’s only apprentice. There was another kid, about 2 years older than her named Daniel. Daniel was living testimony that Cassandra never relented with her apprentices just because they had been around a while. Daniel was older and stronger, so Cassandra demanded even more from him. 

The most frustrating aspect though, was the religious training with the priest, Brother Ferdinand, who Harriet was convinced was a dangerous heretic. The man was short, aging, balding, overweight, and renowned among the initiates for his sharp mind that never missed a beat and eyes that seemed to penetrate one’s very mind. He seemed to anticipate any question that might arise. Everything was called into question, from the nature of Andraste’s divinity, to the holy mandate of the entire Andrastian faith to bring the Maker back to the world by spreading the Chant to the entire world, to the very existence of the Circles and Templar Order. Even the existence of the Maker at all was called into question. Unfortunately, Harriet had decided that being a Seeker meant that she was a defender of the faith. Immediately prior to Ferdinand’s nose spontaneously broke. Cassandra was not amused.

“Would you care to explain why you attacked that poor brother?” she demanded when they returned to her office. Cassandra was in her usual armor, looming over Harriet who was sulking in a chair.

“You don’t know what he was saying Cassandra,” she protested. “He was saying that there’s no way to know for certain that anything the Chantry says is true, or that there’s even any Maker at all!”

Cassandra’s severe look did not soften in the slightest. “And you thought this was reason enough to break his nose? For telling you more truth than most Andrastians will ever encounter in their lives?”

Harriet was shocked into silence, but only briefly. “What—you agree with him?” she demanded. “How could you? I thought you were a Seeker! Aren’t you supposed to be a defender of the faith, someone who’s supposed to oppose heretics and defend the Chantry from evildoers?!”

“And you believe the brother is one of these we must defend against?” Cassandra scoffed. “Enough. Brother Ferdinand has not told anything that he not said to any of his other students, though seeing you were the only one to assault him, we must make reparations.”

Harriet’s heart sunk. The way Cassandra said “reparations” terrified her. 

Cassandra sat down at her desk. “As every Seeker of Truth serves the Chantry, so every recruit must take up service in their training. Were you at one of the Seeker fortresses, this would mean that you would help maintain the day to day upkeep of the grounds, but we’re in the Grand Cathedral, and given your fascination with the Brother, I think it would benefit you greatly to assist him with his work.”

This woman was evil, Harriet was convinced.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Harriet's Seeker training. Things get interesting, questions aren't easy, and regulating Templars can be a pain. 
> 
> This chapter is also not betaed by wonker8, so any and all thoughts, critiques, kudos, and comments are welcome!

Brother Ferdinand was a vengeful sadist, it turned out. Every day after physical training at dawn and her classes until noon, Harriet would report to the wretched man as he prepared for his classes with prospective sisters and brothers. Even after two months helping him, Harriet was convinced that the man was dangerous, filling young, faithful priests’ heads with lies and doubt. Ferdinand would send her on endless trips to the library, only to send the books back once she returned, claiming that he had “realized that these would be useless to my work, they simply would not do.” She cleaned his office several times a day, even though his piles of papers and texts would immediately resume their disheveled arrangement as soon as she was finished. He once even demanded that she retrieve a sack of grain he had dropped on the floor (Maker only knew why the man had a sack of grain in the first place) by taking a pair of pliers and returning each grain to the sack one at a time.

 

But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that the man never shut up. Even when he was hounding her to complete her endless list of menial tasks, he was always talking about the Maker, or the Chantry, or some obscure passage in the Chant and what it might mean in the modern day. It drove Harriet mad, that someone who was so clearly blasphemous seemed so passionate.

“What are you hoping to accomplish anyway,” she demanded one day.

Brother Ferdinand looked over at her, his spectacled eyes boring into her, analyzing her for any hidden motive or weakness. “The violent ignoramus finally shows interest in my work, does she?” he mused. “I must admit, you’re much more stubborn than the last Seeker sent to work with me. Your Order seems to attract a certain type.”

“You flatter me,” Harriet replied.

The Brother harrumphed. “At least you have wit,” he said as he set aside his stack of parchment. “The only thing I ‘hope to accomplish’ as you say, is to prepare initiates of a religious institution with clean cut beliefs and sanitized debates for a life of service to a world that does not neatly fit theoretical questions of faith and dogma.”

“Yawn,” Harriet replied. “Speak the Common Tongue please.”

Ferdinand glared at the girl. “I want to prepare these initiates, who are all so certain in the righteousness of their beliefs, for a world that will put their faith to the test.”

“So you help them… by telling them that the Maker doesn’t exist and the Chantry is full of rubbish?” Harriet scoffed. “That makes sense.”

“If you had been paying attention,” he replied, “you would have noticed that I never said that the Maker doesn’t exist or that the Chant is nothing but lies. You would have noticed that all I said is that there is no way of proving that the Maker exists or that anything Andraste said is literally true.”

“What’s the difference, exactly?” she demanded. “What’s the point of believing anything if we can’t know if it’s true or not?”

The brother brushed one of his handlebar moustaches with a knuckle, his grey eyes twinkling with triumph. “That is the question all people of faith must wrestle with, young Seeker.”

With that he stood and collected his books and supplies for his upcoming class, for once without demanding that Harriet do it for him. “You’re 10, so you’re probably too young to understand this, but the key to being a Seeker is understanding the difference between certainty and faith. Templars and lay people have the luxury of not having to concern themselves with this. Certainty is a comfort that helps them navigate the toils of their day to day lives. But those who seek to do the serious work of faith cannot afford such reductionist views of faith. If you would serve the Chantry as a Seeker and oversee the Templar Order, you must understand that the key to faith is doubt and that no person of faith can ever be free of it.”

Harriet was more confused than ever and it was beginning to make her head hurt. Especially since it seemed like this guy actually believed everything he was saying.

Over the years, Harriet grew to appreciate her sessions with Ferdinand as much as she appreciated her training with Cassandra, even though his sessions left her mind as tired as Cassandra’s left her body. Ferdinand proved as encouraging and supportive of Harriet’s efforts to become a Seeker as Cassandra herself; although, being a simple Brother himself he wasn’t privy to the many rituals and tests of dedication that Harriet had to undergo in her training.

Five years after she arrived in Val Royeaux, Cassandra deemed her ready to accompany her on a mission to the Circle Tower in Cumberland, Nevarra. Cassandra had refused to mention why they were being sent to the Circle or what warranted Seeker intervention, but she could barely maintain her excitement as they approached the city via the Waking Sea. From their ship, she could see the structure that marked the location of the Cumberland Circle of Magi: the Sun Dome. 

“It’s incredible,” Harriet breathed.

“Yes, I suppose it is,” Cassandra replied noncommittedly.

“That’s right,” Harriet said. “You grew up here, you must be so used to it. Is it good to be back?”

Cassandra didn’t acknowledge the question. “We should prepare to dock,” she evaded as she walked off.

Harriet blinked, but returned her attention to the approaching city. Cumberland wasn’t at all like Ostwick or Val Royeaux. While Ostwick was a port city, much like Kirkwall, neither one could hope to compare to this city. Kirkwall was a slave city and was built to inspire fear and terror in its inhabitants before it was liberated, while Ostwick was a major trade stop for merchants travelling north from Ferelden and Orlais to Antiva and Rivain.

Cumberland was a being unto itself. A sprawling metropolis that easily dwarfed any city in the Free Marches or Ferelden. It was said that Ferelden’s capital could fit inside the borders of this city three times and there would still be room to spare. The entire city seemed hewn from marble and stone. Every building seemed adorned with facades so ornate the entire city seemed like it was sculpted with an artist’s loving care. Even from the ship, Harriet could spy the first telltale statues Nevarrans were famous for. Statues of national and religious heroes were found even on the promenade, reminders of history and victories long forgotten by all but the most studious historians. Harriet briefly wondered whether anyone had made statues of Cassandra, seeing as she had saved Divine Beatrix III from a dragon attack years ago, a story that Harriet had had to pester her mentor about for years before she finally told her.

“Maybe I’ll talk to a sculptor about it, just to annoy her,” she thought with glee.

As soon as they docked, they made their way to the Sun Dome. Cassandra refused any offer of escort, electing simply to walk herself to the Circle headquarters. Harriet had to force herself to keep up instead of gawking at the city around her. It was even more stunning up close. There wasn’t a single building that was less than three stories tall and each one was ornately decorated with facades and topped with burgundy tiles. On the roofs she could spot curriers dodging the business of the streets by quickly running across the rooftops as they made their rounds. Harriet gazed up in envy before rushing to catch up with her mentor.

When they arrived at the Circle, they were immediately greeted by an enchanter in white robes.

“Grand Enchanter Briaus,” Cassandra greeted.

“Seeker Cassandra,” he said in surprise. He was clearly from the Anderfels, something Harriet had not expected for the Grand Enchanter. “Forgive me, when I requested a Seeker be sent to investigate, I had no idea they would send the Right Hand of the Divine.”

“Naturally when the mage advisor to the Divine requests a Seeker’s assistance, they would send the Seeker closest to her,” Cassandra replied. “Allow me to introduce my apprentice, Harriet Trevelyan. Harriet, this is Grand Enchanter Briaus.”

Harriet bowed slightly, totally unprepared to meet the highest ranking mage in Thedas. “It’s… an honor to meet you, Grand Enchanter.”

“Likewise,” Briaus replied. “Now come, there is much to discuss.” 

They arrived in the Grand Enchanter’s office, a spacious study at the top of the tower with old, aged walnut shelves and furnishings with a large window overlooking the bay. Being at the top has its perks, Harriet thought, no matter where you are in the world.

Briaus, for his part, sat down at his desk with a look of grim determination, ready to get down to business. “Allow me to explain why I’ve asked you here, Seeker Cassandra,” he began. “There have been a string of what the Templars are calling, ‘accidents.’”

Cassandra raised an eyebrow. “What kind of accidents?”

He reached into a drawer and pulled out several pieces of parchment. Reports, Harriet realized. Likely falsified, or suspected as much if Seekers were being called in.

“Unexplained suicides, mages going missing, apprentices and mages alike being harassed, and, most appalling, unauthorized Rites of Tranquility. On the surface, these are simple enough, and should be handled by the First Enchanter and the Knight-Commander. However, the previous Knight-Commander retired some months ago and the new one has stonewalled any attempts to investigate these events. I suspect there is foul play involved, but the Templars here have united around the Knight-Commander and refuse to investigate. It has gotten to the point where the mages here are afraid to mention what’s happening and avoid even whispering about any talk of investigation for fear that they will be next.”

Cassandra frowned and took the proffered stack of parchment. “Thank you for bringing this to our attention, Grand Enchanter,” she said. “We will get to the bottom of this.” Cassandra stood to leave the room and Harriet hastened to follow.

“One more thing,” he called after them. They turned to face him. His hands were folded in front of his face in contemplation as he gazed at them over his hands. “Speed is of the essence. Tensions are growing and my mages grow more fearful the longer this business goes unchecked. The sooner our minds can be put at ease, the better.”

“Understood,” Cassandra replied and left the room.

As soon as they were outside the office, Cassandra turned to her. “You’re about the age of the oldest apprentices. I want you to go and ask them what they’ve heard about what’s happening here.”

Harriet stopped in her tracks. “What? By myself? This is my first time in the field shouldn’t—“

“I don’t have time to hold your hand, Harriet,” Cassandra said sternly. “I know you can do this. You want to help the mages, yes?”

Harriet’s face flushed. “Of course…”

“Good,” Cassandra replied. “Then you need to be able to talk to them. Speak to the Templar recruits while you’re at it. They may be less tight lipped than their superiors, especially when talking to a Seeker.”

Harriet nodded and walked off to do her duty.

“Harriet,” Cassandra said.

She turned to face her mentor. “You can do this. I believe in you. You must have faith in yourself.”

Harriet felt a little more confident at the words and relaxed her grip on her bow. It’s just talking, she thought. How hard can it be?


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, okay, sorry y'all. Harriet's arc stumped me. Not gonna lie. I have no idea where it's going, so until such a time comes when she starts cooperating with me again, we're returning to the main story arc for this thing and we'll just return to her backstory later. I'm gonna update this every Sunday from here on out.

A week later, the company of mages that had taken up residence in Trevelyan manner gathered at the edge of the Trevelyan estate with Garos at the head of the group. They were waiting for the Trevelyan troupe to join them after they were done saying their farewells. Jason turned from looking out at the group to his gathered family, a rush of emotion and trepidation filling his chest. His mother, graceful and poised as if she wasn’t saying goodbye and sending her children off to what would surely become a war. His father, tall and proud, his face set in grim frame. His siblings, nervous and mourning, all gathered around the twins, the eldest, and the elder. Jason, Harriet, Katheryn, and Mormont all carried packs on them, full of spare supplies to take with them on the caravan.

As soon as they were done with their farewells, Ambrose stepped forward with four small pieces of sealed parchment and handed one to each of them. “It is my hope that these words will help you in your moments of doubt and give you courage to face the coming days,” she said. “Whatever happens, there is chaos coming. Be safe, and return to us.”

Jason’s eyes welled with tears. He was grateful when Harriet was the one who spoke.

“Don’t worry, Mother,” she spoke, “we’ll all return safe and sound when this is all over.”

Ambrose nodded and turned to the side and gestured to a servant. “Harriet,” she said, “I think it is time for you to take this. I’ve seen you practice. I know that you are capable of using it now.” Jason watched as his mother took an ironbark bow, beautifully crafted but not needlessly ornate, exactly the kind of bow his mother would prefer, from the servant and presented it to her youngest daughter. Harriet took the bow reverently and easily strung the bow, her eyes shining with tears. As he watched, Jason realized that this was the very same bow that his mother had used the day his magic had manifested and she had defended him when the guards had retaliated for his setting one of them on fire. When she was done, she embraced her mother.

Ambrose released her daughter with a proud smile. “Now go, the caravan won’t wait for you forever,” she said.

They left the manor, hearts heavy and headed to the edge of the city where the caravan was waiting. It had taken no small measure of persuasion and coin to fund a caravan to transport that many people all the way to northern Orlais. Jason hadn’t been the one to arrange all that, but he could only imagine the coin that his house had put forward to help them all. The caravan was stopping in Starkhaven and Kirkwall on the way to trade, so the trip wouldn’t be considered completely unprofitable, but Jason had little illusions that the Trevelyans would make more than they had spent for this particular venture. It was, after all, an act of charity towards their family.

As they were walking towards the outskirts Garos found his way to Jason’s side once again. He had been oddly quiet the past week, but Jason reasoned that they were all still shaken by what had transpired at the Circle. “I’ve… been meaning to tell you,” Garos said slowly, “It was kind of amazing how you took charge when we heard the Circle was rebelling.”

Jason gave him an odd look. “I didn’t really,” he said. “Mormont was the one who found us and said we had to get out.”

“Yes,” Garos said, “but you were the one who got us rescue the apprentices, who kept us from danger of the battle in the commons, and directed everyone when the abomination showed up.” Jason began to protest. “No, Jason,” he interrupted. “You were the one who led us, and you were incredible.” Garos stopped and drew Jason into an embrace.

“Um, thanks, I guess,” Jason said eloquently. Garos released him and smiled up at him before he continued on. For Jason’s part, he was utterly confused. Garos was being oddly expressive and affectionate, even though he had always been the sort who freely gave affection to the people around him. He made a mental note to talk to Katheryn and Harriet about it later. For now, they all had to make it to the caravan.

It was mid-morning by the time they arrived. The caravan was massive. With fifty wagons, horses to pull each wagon, and each filled with supplies of varying kinds. Mormont, who had helped oversee the planning for this particular part, had said he procured food and weapons in equal measure, to both ensure that everyone could eat and that the mages and older apprentices could defend themselves and the youngsters if bandits took advantage of the large group. The downside to travelling like this, he had said, was that they would be a huge target for any bandits hiding out along the road. Having no weapons would be like inviting them to come along and take whatever they wanted.

The man who greeted them was a gruff man named Edgar. He was completely bald and had a large garish scar going down the left side of his face. He was heavily armed with a large, curved battle axe and he was dressed in gleaming steel armor. Jason realized that this man was meant as extra protection on the way, and was more a bodyguard than anything. That said, the man was terrifying and many of the younger apprentices kept their distance. Garos seemed to be with them.

“So,” Edgar said, “you’re the robes some fancy lords are paying us to protect. Thought you’d be more impressive, not a bunch of whiny bitches.”

Jason bristled, but Harriet seemed to take it all in stride.

“You’re being paid to protect them, not to run your mouth,” she said, “Now are we ready to go or not? We’ve got a long way to go and your barbed jokes won’t make it any shorter.”

Edgar grunted and called for the workers to move out. Some of the youngest apprentices who couldn’t walk for very long got up and rode on some of the wagons. Others ran around staring and gaping and grinning at the caravan. The apprentices were carefully nudged away from the wagons that contained weapons, as no one really wanted to use the medical supplies to treat kids who got themselves wounded by being somewhere they shouldn’t be. All in all, Jason was impressed with how quickly some of them adapted to all the changes that had happened in the past week.

That said, all these apprentices were still mages. The head count they took when they had arrived at the Trevelyan estate made it to 147 apprentices, 34 of whom were in their late teens and would have gone through the Harrowing soon had the Circles not rebelled. These 34 older apprentices helped teach the youngest apprentices, while Garos, Katheryn, and Jason helped teach them. Just because they were on the run didn’t mean that they didn’t have to apply themselves. During the day, the older ones would split their time either teaching younger kids or practicing their own magic. It soon became evident that one-on-one tutelage would be impossible, so the apprentices were divvied up into groups that received instruction all at once. When they stopped for the day, the three mages would split up and see what the youngsters had managed to achieve that day. It wasn’t an ideal method, but it was necessary. Demons wouldn’t ignore them just because times were hard.

When they made camp the first evening and after the mages had made their rounds, Jason collapsed on the ground next to Harriet with Katheryn following soon after.

“My legs feel like fucking jelly,” he said. “How far did we come today?”

Harriet gave him a sadistic grin and laughed. “The outside world doesn’t agree with you, Jay?”

Jason laid down. “It agrees with me just fine,” he said, “As long as I’m inside, in a chair, with a glass of good Antivan red.”

“Hear, hear,” Katheryn groaned.

Harriet laughed once more at their predicament. “Don’t worry,” she said, “you’ll get used to exercise soon. Soon you’ll be able to jog cross-country for miles without getting tired at all!”

Jason attempted to scowl up at her from his position on the ground. She leaned back and smirked at him. “That sounds like torture,” he said. “You’re a bad sister.”

Katheryn looked down at him from his right. “Is this what she spent the last decade learning from the Seekers?” she asked, “How to torture mages with this thing called exercise?”

“Apparently,” he replied. Then he remembered what he had to ask them about. “I need to ask you two something.” Just as he finished saying it, Mormont showed up, but made no move to say anything.

“Sure, Jay,” Harriet said, “what is it?”

He told them about what transpired between him and Garos that morning. 

“Have there been any similar incidents?” Harriet asked. Jason told them about the night they had arrived at the estate, how Garos had held his hand on the bed for a while. He also told them about different incidents over the years. The time he caught Garos staring at him for no particular reason, when Garos draped his legs over Jason’s while plotting one of his pranks, when he had conjured an icy wren and given it to Jason after he had passed his Harrowing and they were both full mages.

When he finished he asked, “So what’s going on?” His question was met with groans. Katheryn smacked her forehead, Harriet began massaging her temples, and Mormont moved behind Jason and cuffed the back of his head.

“Maker you’re dense,” Mormont said, then cuffed him again for good measure.

“I feel sorry for Garos,” said Harriet, “You’re a terrible best friend.”

“Clearly Mormont and I were lax in teaching you about these things,” Katheryn finished.

“Okay, what’s going on?” Jason demanded, “Why are you all treating me like an idiot.”

Harriet turned, seized his face in her hands and glared into his eyes, their aquamarine eyes shimmering in the firelight. “Jay, dear brother, you’re an incredibly gifted mage, intelligent, and powerful. But. You. Are. Absolutely. An. Idiot.”

Katheryn spoke, “Remember when we found Edmund with that guy he was seeing some years ago?”

Jason nodded, “Yeah, you and Mormont made me spy on them in a shrubbery!”

Katheryn assumed the very patient look that she had worn when first teaching Jason how to control his magic. “Yes, good,” she said. “Clearly you didn’t benefit from that experience as much as I had hoped. Garos fancies you.”

Jason blinked. “He--- what?”

Mormont rolled his eyes. “He wants to snog you, shag you, do all manner of wicked things to you.”

Jason looked shocked. His best friend liked him? Like, liked him, liked him? If he wasn’t already sitting down, he would have had to. As it was, he wished that someone had remembered to bring along some alcohol. He suddenly needed a drink.

“Judging from the looks he’s given you,” Harriet drawled, “I would say he more than likes you. At this point, he’s probably in love, or close to it.”

Jason stared at his sister, “How can he be in love with me?”

Mormont cuffed him again. “People don’t control who they love,” he said. “The point is, he loves you, probably has for a long time, and you’ve been too oblivious to even notice.”

“What, you knew?” Jason asked.

“Of course we knew!” Katheryn said. “We were wondering if or when anything would happen.”

“I’ve only seen you two together a handful of times,” Harriet added, “and I knew that he liked you.”

Jason’s face felt hot with shame and embarrassment. “Okay,” he said, “What am I supposed to do?”

“That depends,” Harriet said, “How do you feel about being with a man?”

“Well,” he shrugged, “I’ve never thought about it. Like, I thought about it when I found out about Edmund, but I never actually got any pleasure myself from fantasizing about it. I guess I just like women.”

Katheryn looked saddened by this news. “Ah, well, in that case, the only thing for you to do is talk to him and let him down gently.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, “Maybe it would be kinder to---“

“No!” they said in unison. Mormont moved to cuff him again before Jason rose his hands to shield the back of his head. The man might not be wearing armor, but he was still one of the strongest men Jason knew.

Harriet took his hand gently in hers. “Jason, haven’t you ever fancied someone who never knew how you felt about them?” He nodded, remembering one of the Templars in the tower whom he had admired for months but never actually managed to work up the courage to even speak to. He cringed, remembering how he had vented these frustrations to, none other than, Garos. He had forced his friend, who had probably had feelings for him even then, to listen to the woes of his unrequited affections.

“The worst part is the not knowing,” she said, “It’ll hurt him when you tell him the truth, but not as much as if you passively let him continue now that you know how he feels.”

“What if he doesn’t get better?” Jason asked. “What if this kills our friendship?”

“Your friendship has survived this long with no ill effects because of his feelings,” Katheryn said. “Have faith in both your abilities to move past this.”

Mormont added, “We all find ways to move on from the people it didn’t work out with. He’ll find a way, and judging from how close you are even ignoring his feelings, I’d say chances are good that you two will keep being friends.”

Jason lay back down on the ground in resignation. “This sucks,” he said. 

Harriet chuckled, “Amen to that,” she said.

Jason sighed, “Thanks, I guess. Except for you, Mormont,” he said, “I’m getting back at you for cuffing me.”

Mormont huffed. “Don’t be an idiot and I won’t cuff you.”

“Though if this ever happens again,” Katheryn said, “we’re disowning you.”

They continued laughing and joking amongst themselves until the night and the weariness of the day finally claimed them. Jason rolled over in his bedroll dreading what he would have to do.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason talks with Garos and gets advice from Katheryn.

At dawn the next day, Jason awoke stiff and grouchy. The talk the night before, while beneficial, left him not feeling a bit better about talking to Garos. He stood and stretched, his back cracking and popping vocally. He went out to find the group of apprentices that he was assigned to watch out for to do a head count and make sure no one wandered off in the middle of the night and to wake up the groggy souls so they could get an early start.

In a couple hours the caravan was ready to head out, no one especially happy to be experiencing this portion of their new lives. Jason steeled himself and went about trying to find Garos, who was near the front of the caravan as one of the few people who had any energy to speak of. He seemed to be pouring over the one tome he had been able to grab before leaving the tower, an expose on the finer points of the spirit school. Jason had his grimoire, but it wasn’t the same as having a scholarly studies at his fingertips. Jason hesitated briefly and sat down next to Garos, peering over his shoulder to see what specifically he was reading.

“Did you know that you can use Spirit magic to reanimate the dead without dragging spirits from across the Veil to actually possess them like blood mages do?” Garos asked. “There’s a whole branch of magic practiced in Nevarra devoted to it.”

“Really?” Jason asked, genuinely intrigued. “I’m surprised the Chantry let them, considering how they think of that sort of thing.”

Garos grinned. “They’re called the Mortalitasi and apparently their job is to draw displaced spirits in our world into corpses in the Grand Necropolis.”

“I guess that’s one way to deal with spirits, as long as they aren’t demons,” Jason replied.

“What’s really cool is that there’s an entire section of spells within their school that’s specifically meant to be used as part of battles,” Garos went on, “though that’s not really something I think I’d want to learn. Sounds like it would be terrifying, as impressive as it would be to actually see.”

“What’s this sudden interest in the death mages?” Jason asked. “I would have thought that before that sort of thing would be a little too much for you.”

Garos looked at him with admiration. “I’ve been thinking that there’s going to more fighting before this is all through,” he said, “You’re trying to become a Knight-Enchanter, and I thought that maybe I could find a way to become more useful in a fight.”

“But you are useful in a fight,” Jason replied, “No one else here is as good at debilitating people as you are.”

“Yeah, but who knows what we’ll be facing down the road?” Garos countered. “Besides, it’s kind of cool in a macabre sort of way. And spirits will be drawn across the Veil wherever there’s a major battle. Better to use them than let them hang around to become demons.”

Jason shrugged, but said nothing to that. “Look, I have something I want to ask you.”

“Sure,” Garos said, his face holding the usual brightness that seemed to oppose the dark times they had entered.

Jason took a deep breath. “Yesterday when you were saying how I led us all out of the Circle and hugged me…”

Garos’ looked quizzically at Jason, “Yeah? What about it?”

Jason’s heart quickened, adrenaline coursed through his body and he wanted nothing more than to drop it and run away and hide his face in a hole. “It seemed… more intimate than a friend’s hug.”

Garos blinked and Jason continued, “What I was wondering was… do you… like me as more than just a friend?”

Garos’ widened and he suddenly seemed flustered. “Well, I—you know, umm… maybe? Yes?” He looked at his friend and couldn’t quite manage to meet his gaze.

“How long have you felt this way?” Jason asked.

Garos breathed deep and chuckled. “Years,” he said. “Since we were apprentices. Not from the very beginning, but after we were there for a few years. I think I was about 16 when I first started having a crush on you.”

Jason did a quick calculation. He was two years older than Garos, sooo… “You’ve had a crush on me for seven years?” he asked, completely flabbergasted. “And you never said anything.”

Garos gave him a perfectly deadpan look. “I tried. There were times when I wanted to, other times when I dropped hints, but you, my friend, are one oblivious muffin.”

“Tell me about it,” Jason said, his face completely red at this point. “I only found out because my family accosted me when I said I didn’t know.” 

Garos snorted. “Good.”

“Anyway,” Jason continued, “I want to say that I’m sorry and that I just don’t feel the same way.”

“I know,” Garos said sadly, “And thank you.”

Jason got down off the wagon and said, “I need to find my apprentices. I’ll catch you later.”

Garos waved him away. As soon as he was out of sight and earshot, he closed his book and set it gently back in his pack. Then he held his face in his hands and cried with a strange mixture of grief and relief.   
**********************************************************************************************************************************

When Jason was done making his rounds, he returned to the wagon where Katheryn indicated she’d be if he needed to talk later. He found her with a set of knitting needles and several lengths of different colored yarns, knitting away while the wagon lumbered along. He walked up to her and kept pace.

“You knit?” he asked.

“Everyone needs a hobby,” she replied as she looked up, her hands moving with steady ease of someone so used to something they didn’t need to pay direct attention to it. “Aside from breaking hearts, that is.”

His face burned. “I guess I deserve that,” he muttered.

For her part, she looked sympathetic. “Yes, but don’t beat yourself up over it,” she said. “We’ve all been there, loved someone who didn’t know who we were, had someone who loved us and we didn’t even know.”

“I feel like shit,” he responded.

Katheryn nodded, but said nothing.

“I can see it, you know,” he rambled. “I can see all the little signs that I should have picked up on.”

“Hindsight sees clearest, as they say.”

“But how could I have been so stupid,” he asked.

Katheryn said nothing for a time, looking up at the clouds in the sky, more than she could ever remember seeing before. Shut away in the tower, she seldom left and when she did, the hustle and bustle of Ostwick usually left little time for cloud gazing and the buildings had obscured her view of the sky.

“I think,” she mused, “That we see the things we want to see and are blind to things we don’t know.”

“What do you mean? he asked.

“Have you ever liked someone so much that you interpreted favorable hints and signs that actually weren’t there at all?” Jason nodded. “We all do it. We want some things to be true against all possibilities. You didn’t notice Garos’ signs because you weren’t looking for them. You noticed signs that weren’t there at all because you were looking.” 

“So what do I do, now?” Jason asked. “It’s not like we can go right back to the way we were before.”

“No you can’t,” she confirmed. “And for now, you can’t do anything. Give him some space for a while unless he comes to you and when this is over, the two of you will still be friends, only both of you will know more about each other and your friendship will be better than it was before.”

Jason wasn’t wholly convinced, but he felt better regardless. “Thanks, Katheryn.”

She smiled. “You’re welcome,” she said, “Now if you’re done moping for now, make yourself useful. I see some apprentices over there who look much too happy and could use something to do if they’ve finished their lesson for the day.”

Jason followed her gaze and found a gaggle of young apprentices, around 10 or 11 years old, carousing happily a short distance behind them. He almost felt sorry for them for having Katheryn as their instructor. Almost. Their situation didn’t allow for much leisure time, much as he wished otherwise.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a day late and I apologize. Grad school is kicking my ass and I have been scrambling to get shit done. Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy this chapter!

Nearly a month later, they finally managed to reach Andoral’s Reach. By some miracle or Andraste’s favor, they had managed to arrive at the fortress unscathed, with no one lost along the way. Harriet gazed out from the ramparts at the valley below. It was a good, defensible position, one the mages would be able to make use of should the Templars ever decide to march their forces here. There were no signs of them at the time, but Harriet was certain that the Circle had few spies in their employ and probably not a capable spymaster to manage them. If the Templars came, they would have little time to prepare.

Jason, Katheryn, and Garos had taken the apprentices to meet with some other mages from the Ostwick Circle who had made their way there. All in all about 400 mages from Ostwick were present, including the apprentices, though some seemed hesitant to take on mentees for whatever reason. Mormont had gone to meet with the few Templars who had accompanied the mages, and they were very few, indeed. There were thousands of mages present already, and the vote on whether they would separate from the Chantry was still a few days away. Compared to that, there were only about 600 Templars, who were relatively isolated from the mages due to general, and justified in Harriet’s opinion, distrust of the Order.

Harriet had told no one that she was a Seeker of Truth, except the Grand Enchanter, Fiona. She had expressed no small amount of shock to learn that one of the Seekers was present, though she relaxed somewhat when Harriet assured her that she wasn’t a spy.

What news they had received from the outside world was grim. The Circle in Dairsmuid in Rivain had been annulled, the Seekers of Truth and the Templars slaying every mage within. Harriet wept for what the Seekers were doing. Neither her nor her mentor, Cassandra could be brought to support them in this endeavor. Harriet had responded to the Lord Seeker’s summons with blatant refusal, citing that his refusal to negotiate with the mages in favor of imposing harsh restrictions on them in the wake of the knowledge that the Rite of Tranquility could be reverse was directly responsible for the Circles’ rebellions.

There was nothing to do except wait. What scouts the mages had would have to do to keep them informed as to any threats headed their way. Harriet didn’t know Lambert personally, but she had difficulty believing that he would do anything but attempt to destroy the mage rebellion utterly. Cassandra had told her as much in their correspondences. The Lord Seeker simply didn’t believe in dealing with the mages in any way except blood.  
*********************************************************************************************

Three days later was the appointed day for the vote. Harriet stood by Jason and Garos, who were gathered with the Aequitarians. Katheryn was an Isolationist and was off in another part of the gathered crowd awaiting the vote. None of them said anything, silent amidst the nervous din of chatter waiting for the debates to begin. Each fraternity had a chosen representative. The Aequitarians had chosen Rhys, a mage who had been present at the White Spire when it rebelled and who had been framed for murder by Lord Seeker Lambert. Harriet didn’t recognize any of the other representatives, though she could have sworn that she saw Madame de Fer among the Loyalists, even though she was technically not part of any of the fraternities.

All fell silent as Grand Enchanter Fiona stepped up onto the raised platform and called for the vote to separate from the Chantry.

“My friends, fellow mages, we stand here at a crossroads for all who are born with the gift of magic. Today we will determine the future of all those who will come after us bearing the same gift. A month ago one of our own returned from Adamant fortress with news of a way to reverse the Rite of Tranquility and the Templars attempted to have him killed rather than allow us to investigate the claims. We rebelled! The Templars rebelled to hunt us down! Today we make our voice known to all of Thedas! Today we write the next chapter of the history of the Circle of Magi! Will we return to the Circles under Chantry oversight or will we forge a new path?”

Harriet and Jason sat next to each other as the Loyalists made their argument. They, unsurprisingly, advocated a return to the Chantry, arguing that they could not hope to defeat the Templars that were surely on their way to the fortress at that very moment. “What do you think the Aequitarians will do?” she asked.

“It’s difficult to say,” Jason replied. Garos nodded beside him.

“The Aequitarians have historically sided with the Loyalists against the Libertarians,” Garos whispered. “But word has it that our representative, Rhys, tends to sympathize with them.”

“How did he become the representative, then?” she asked.

“Apparently he’s the son of Wynne, the Archmage who helped stop the Blight,” Jason said, “He was also at the White Spire where she died, so First Enchanter Irving offered him the position of the fraternity’s representative.”

The Lucrosians were speaking now. Their representative cast their lot in with the Loyalists, probably because profits and influence were difficult to garner if the mages were in revolt. They were followed shortly by the Isolationists, who also sided with the Loyalists. It made sense in a way. Those three fraternities were the smallest and each had their own reasons to want to stay within the Circle. Where the problem really lay was with the Aequitarians, the largest fraternity. They were moderates, and a fair number of them would probably favor siding with the Loyalists while the others would support the Libertarians. They would call for succession and the final vote would lie with Rhys.

The Libertarian representative sat down and Rhys stood. The tension could be cut with a knife as everyone present held their breaths. The unspoken truth that Fiona had neglected to mention, that the Templars and the Seekers would almost certainly go to war with the mages should they choose to succeed, hung in the air. Rhys said his peace, and cast the Aequitarian vote for the Libertarians. Shock filled the area where the mages were gathered. The mages had voted to leave the Chantry. Fiona stood before them once again and pronounced that the motion had passed and that it would stand.

Chaos erupted.  
*********************************************************************************************

Jason, Katheryn, Mormont, Garos, and Harriet found each other a day later, the fortress still in turmoil over the results of the vote.

“What now?” Katheryn demanded, trying to keep calm.

Mormont looked to Harriet. “Why are you looking at me?” she asked.

“You’re the Seeker, here,” he pointed out. “You know better than any of us what will happen next.”

She thought for a moment. “Assuming that the Seekers are leading the Templars here to stamp out dissent,” she said, “the only options we have are to stay and help the mages defend against them or try to leave and avoid the fight.”

“You would have us flee?” Jason demanded.

“Maybe. Mages are leaving,” Harriet retorted. “Lord Seeker Lucius is ruthless, and now he undoubtedly knows where we are. If all the mages had decided to leave the Chantry, it might be different, but a great deal of them left when the Circle disbanded.”

“What about the apprentices we brought with us?” Jason asked. “The caravan is gone, we can’t take that many people with us.”

Katheryn spoke up. “The apprentices were all reassigned mentors when we arrived, they’ll most likely accompany them, whether they leave or stay.”

“Even if we left,” Jason argued, “where would we go? Back to the Free Marches? We can’t make it that far on our own.”

“No,” Harriet responded, “I propose that we go to Val Royeaux. My mentor, Cassandra is still there as the Divine’s Right Hand, we could go to her and bring news of what’s happened. They likely have more resources at their disposal than we do.” She looked directly at Jason, “Unless you would rather stay here to take part in the war?”

Jason scowled at her, but shook his head. “Then it’s decided,” Mormont intoned, “We gather what supplies we have available to us and make for the capital.” The mages departed to gather their things and Harriet sighed in frustration.

“You chose well,” Mormont said to her, “We need to stay on the move to avoid the Templars and staying here puts us in harm’s way.”

She caught a hint of reservation in his voice. “But,” she replied, “you would have still preferred to remain and fight rather than flee.”

“If it were up to me,” Mormont sighed, “We would stay. There’s supplies here and speaking as a Templar, lyrium is hard to come by in the wilderness.”

Harriet nodded. She knew Templars were addicted to the lyrium they used to fight the mages. They would need to get enough to tide Mormont over on their way to the capital. Once they were there, it would be easier to find smugglers willing to strike a deal, if they knew where to look. Knowing Leliana, that wouldn’t prove too difficult.

“What’s going to happen now, Mormont?” she asked, allowing the fear she had been keeping in check to rise to the surface.

Mormont stood, stroking his beard. “We’re at war, now, Harriet,” he said with a measure of fear himself. “Whatever comes, none of us are safe.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all grad school kicked my butt so hard that I realized that a week or 2 ago I posted a duplicate chapter. Sorry about that. I'll post another chapter tonight so we can be where we're supposed to be by now. 
> 
> The good news is that I'm done with all major exams and assignments for the next few weeks so I can (hesitantly) take a moment to breathe. Praise Jesus...

The Mage-Templar War began in 9:39 Dragon. Almost simultaneously, Orlais erupted in a brutal civil war between Empress Celene and Grand Duke Gaspard. Harriet led her family (and Garos) to Val Royeaux, where Cassandra recruited them into her retinue to investigate what had caused the Circles to revolt and if there was a way to make peace between the two sides. After months of recruiting both mages and Templars to their cause, too slowly for anyone’s taste, Divine Justinia sent Cassandra to locate the Champion of Kirkwall and Leliana to locate the Hero of Ferelden.

Soon after, the Divine announced that a conclave meant to bring the leaders of the mage rebellion and the Templar Order together to negotiate peace would be held at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Harriet and those with her traveled with her on a pilgrimage to Haven in preparation of the conclave. They arrived at Haven a month and a half before the conclave was due to begin. Harriet and the Knights-Divine entered the Temple of Sacred Ashes, guarding Divine Justinia as she directed workers in their preparations for the conclave.

“You have doubts, Seeker Trevelyan,” the Divine stated.

“It is not my place to say such things, Your Holiness,” Harriet replied. 

“We all have doubts, Seeker,” the Divine replied, “and you are one of the few Seekers who did not follow your Order to lead the Templars. I thank the Maker that Cassandra was your mentor. She should be proud.”

Harriet smiled at the praise, despite herself. “Thank you, Your Holiness,” she replied. “Do you really think that the conclave will be able to make peace between the mages and Templars?”

“I do, Seeker,” she said, “I believe that the chance exists and that we must pursue it, no matter how daunting it may be.”

Harriet thought about saying something more but held her tongue. The Divine was not someone one spoke frankly to, unless it was Leliana or if Divine Justinia specifically asked Cassandra to speak her mind. Harriet was neither of them, much as she admired them. Leliana was fiercely loyal and a close confidant to the Divine. Harriet often wondered what Divine Justinia was like before she became the Divine. Cassandra was strong and resolute and believed fully in the righteousness of her cause, even as she often came off as threatening to pummel whoever crosses her path. Both were women of incredible faith who never seemed to waver in their convictions and, as a result, often disagreed with each other.

Cassandra and Leliana returned just as the Divine Conclave was beginning, dragging along a dwarf with such a copious amount of chest hair that it was oddly mesmerizing and an incredibly handsome man in heavy armor and a feathery cape draped around his shoulders. She found herself staring after him, completely distracted from guarding the Divine as she made her way to the Temple of Sacred Ashes for the first day of negotiations. Elsewhere in the crowd, she knew that Jason, Garos, Katheryn, and Mormont would be somewhere in attendance. It was the first day, after all, everyone was curious as to what would happen at these talks.

The first day of the talks was, predictably, more frustrating than anything. The mages presented their grievances to the Templars, which in turn was met with the Templars presenting their holy mandate, arguing that they only did their duty. The Templars presented their grievances to the Chantry, which was met with the mages arguing that the way they had been treated left them with no choice but to rebel. The day followed such a pattern and several times Harriet was glad that Leliana had had the foresight to hire Qunari mercenaries to help keep the peace between the volatile factions.

Later that evening, after she had been dismissed from her service for the day, Harriet met with her family and Garos at the tavern in Haven. Jason’s head was resting on his arms crossed in front of him, Garos was massaging his forehead, Katheryn and Mormont discussed the day’s events. 

Harriet sat down with them and ordered a round of drinks. “How many more days of this are left?” she asked.

“Too many, if they’re all going to be like this,” Garos replied.

Mormont hummed in agreement, “I fear this day was simply a great deal of posturing on both sides.” 

Jason rose his head up, finally joining the conversation as the drinks arrived. “Well hopefully this posturing won’t last that long,” he said. “I’m not sure how much of this I can take.”

There was no such luck. Both sides refused to back down and over the next few days, the Divine Conclave had made very little progress towards finding common ground between them. About a week into the negotiations, Divine Justinia called her Left and Right hands, as well as Harriet, to her side to discuss the Conclave. When they arrived, she presented a thick tome with the sigil of eye in a sunburst with a blade through the middle. 

“You remember what this is, Cassandra?” Divine Justinia asked.

Cassandra nodded. “A writ from Divine Beatrix III, granting authority to the Left and Right Hands of the Divine to restore the Inquisition.” Harriet looked at her, utterly bewildered at why Cassandra would know what such a tome was. Cassandra responded to her unspoken question. “Divine Beatrix knew that it was only a matter of time before the Circles rebelled and Thedas was thrown into chaos. She believed that the Inquisition could help the Chantry be prepared for that eventuality, as it would mean that the Chantry had failed and that new solutions must be found, even if the Chantry itself was unable to determine what those solutions would be.”

“This is the contingency plan in the event the Conclave fails,” the Divine said. 

“Are you certain about this, Most Holy?” Cassandra asked.

“I am certain of nothing, Cassandra,” she replied. “But the Divine Conclave cannot be our only hope. If it fails, then we will need an institution to challenge the fundamental assumptions of the Chantry that has led us to this point.”

Harriet was confused. “You want an institution to rival the Chantry? Why?”

Cassandra glared at her formal pupil and Harriet knew that she would receive an earful later. Divine Justinia, however, simply smiled. “I want change to occur within the Chantry. The Circles cannot go back to the way they were, the mages will not allow it. And so long as the Templars any solution other than restoring the Circles, we cannot make headway by proposing alternatives. If the Chantry cannot find a solution, someone must rise above everything else and make one themselves.

“This is, however, only a contingency plan. There is still a chance for the Conclave to succeed, if we play our cards right.” The Divine looked at Cassandra. “Cassandra, my Right Hand, go to the Mage and Templar leaders tomorrow and speak with them directly about what terms are acceptable to them and what concessions they are willing to grant to reach a compromise.” Cassandra placed her fist over her heart and bowed in obedience.

Then the Divine looked at Leliana. “My Left Hand, go to the leaders of both the mages and the Templars and see what secrets they have that we can use against them. Discover just what it will take for them to willingly come to our side.” 

Leliana bowed, “Yes, Your Holiness.”

Lastly, Justinia looked at Harriet, “Seeker Trevelyan, you will accompany me to the Temple tomorrow in their stead.” Harriet bowed as well, “I am your humble servant, Divine Justinia.”

Justinia rose and addressed all three of them. “There is still hope for these talks. We must do whatever we can to ensure that we achieve peace before more innocents suffer from the chaos.”

As they left, Harriet had the sneaking suspicion that nothing was going to go as Justinia hoped.   
********************************************************************************************************************

The next morning, Jason woke up late for the first time in what seemed like ages. He was immensely glad that he had decided that he had had enough of the political posturing between the mages and Templars. Harriet was the only one who had to be at the Conclave that day, and that was to guard the Divine. 

He stretched in the bed and opened his eyes to the bright morning light. Haven was in the middle of icy nowhere, Ferelden, but at least he had a halfway decent bed to sleep in instead of the bedroll he had acquired years ago at the onset of the Mage Rebellion. It seemed so long since he had known the comfort of the Ostwick Circle, since he had slept in a comfortable bed or been able to study magic in a library, or even eat hot food regularly without having to hunt for it and cook it himself. Jason had many talents, but cooking was regrettably not one of them.

Suddenly an explosion shook the earth. The hut around him shook and the air itself seemed charged with sudden magical energy. People were screaming and shouting. Jason threw on a shirt and ran outside to look around. What he saw chilled his blood. The Temple of Sacred Ashes, where the Divine Conclave was, where the Divine was, where his sister was, was gone. Billows of smoke rose from the now flattened mountaintop. Above that was something like nothing he had ever seen. A hole in the sky, raining green fire upon the landscape below. Jason vaguely remembered being restrained by Garos and Mormont and screams that sounded vaguely like his own.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bespoke bonus chapter. It's a bit longer than most of my chapters. Hope y'all enjoy. Sorry for the mix up.
> 
> Also when I was writing this for NaNoWriMo a year ago, I had an encyclopedic knowledge of the beginning of DAI, so if the dialogue seems familiar for the next few chapters, that's why. I was nearing the deadline and needed the word count. 
> 
> I do not own DAI (much to my dismay) or its dialogue.

Harriet awoke to a dark room, a strange green glyph on her left hand. The glyph flared abruptly and she gasped as she saw stars from the blistering pain in her hand. The first thing she noticed when the pain subsided was that she was manacled, and that guards had their swords lowered towards her position on the cold stone floor.

_I’m in the Chantry,_ she thought. It had holding cells for some reason, so it’s really the only place I could be. She tried to remember what had happened before she awoke, but all she could think of was a fierce argument between a mage enchanter and one Knight-Commander Marteu. Despite that, at the time she remembered that she actually thought they were making progress. The Valo-Kas mercenaries hadn’t had to intervene once. Harriet wondered what she had missed since then or if Divine Justinia had managed to broker a peace between them, despite everything.

Suddenly the door burst open. Cassandra stormed in followed by Leliana. Cassandra wore an expression Harriet had never seen before, a strange mixture of rage and confusion. She was suddenly terrified that her old mentor would pound her into a pulp.

“Harriet,” Cassandra ground out, “what happened?”

Harriet looked up at her and then to Leliana, “What do you mean what happened?”

Cassandra studied her briefly. “The Conclave was destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead, except for you.”

Harriet panicked, her heart began racing and her hands became moist with sweat. “What do you mean everyone’s dead?” she demanded. Jason, Mormont, Garos, Katheryn… they couldn’t all be dead! Not after everything they had gone through! If they were she would find a way to the Maker Himself to bring them back to the land of the living. “What about my family? What about Jason?”

“They survived,” Cassandra said, “They have been assisting us in trying to restore order.”

Leliana leaned down and took her left hand. “Explain this,” she demanded. Leliana’s presence didn’t improve her mood. Leliana interrogating her was just about the most terrifying thing she could think of.

“I don’t know what that is or how it got there,” she said. “Please, tell me what happened to my family. Did you find them?”

Leliana rose, “You’re lying,” she hissed, “But we need you regardless.”

Cassandra knelt down next to her, “Do you remember what happened?”

Harriet concentrated as hard as she could, trying to squeeze out whatever information she could remember like she was a child taking a test she had “forgotten” to study for back in Matron Beatrix’s classroom. “I remember running… things were chasing me and then… a woman?”

“A woman?” Leliana repeated.

“She reached out to me,” Harriet continued, “but then…” she groaned, unable to remember anything else. Cassandra strode over to Leliana. “Go to the forward camp, Leliana,” she said. “I will take Harriet to the rift.” Cassandra returned to Harriet’s position on the floor and took out a key to unlock her manacles.

“What did happen, Cassandra?” she asked.

“It will be easier to show you,” Cassandra replied. “Even as a Seeker, you have never seen something like this in your life. None of us have.”

Harriet steeled herself and followed her old mentor out of the Chantry dungeons. When the doors to the outside world opened, she squinted her eyes at the sudden rush of light. Then she saw it. Whatever it was, Cassandra had been right. There seemed to be a giant hole in the sky over where the Temple of Sacred Ashes had been.

“We call it the Breach,” Cassandra said, breaking into her reverie. “It’s a massive tear in the Veil to the Fade and grows larger with each passing hour.”

“Is it the only one?” Harriet asked, hoping beyond hope that the Maker had decided that they had dealt with enough bullshit in the past few years and had thrown them an “easy” challenge.

“No, it’s just the largest,” Cassandra replied. “All were caused by the explosion at the conclave.”

Harriet’s eyebrows rose. “For an explosion to cause this… it must have been incredibly powerful magic.”

Cassandra nodded. “Yes, and so far that is the only thing we know about its origins.”

The Breach rumbled, signaling that it must be growing. Simultaneously, Harriet’s mark flared to life once more. She cried out, the mark felt like her bones were being replaced by hot iron, and she collapsed to the ground. Cassandra was at her side in an instant. “Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads and it is killing you,” she said. Harriet felt so relieved at this news, as if the pain itself wasn’t something that carried the promise of a slow, agonizing end. “It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn’t much time.”

“You think this mark can close the Breach?” Harriet asked through gritted teeth. The pain was subsiding, but it still hurt like hell. 

“Yes,” Cassandra replied, “Though whether that’s even possible is something we shall discover shortly.”

“I understand,” Harriet said. “I’ll do what I can, whatever it takes.” Cassandra nodded, clearly expecting nothing less from her. She helped her get to her feet and they began their descent into the valley.  
******************************************************************************************************************

Harriet cursed as a bolt of energy from the Breach headed directly in front of them, destroying the bridge and sending them down to the frozen river below. Demons rose up from the ice amidst the debris and Harriet was, as yet, still unarmed. Cassandra drew her sword and placed the shield in front of her, prepared to take on whatever denizens of the Fade appeared single handedly. “Stay behind me,” she shouted.

_Sure Cassandra, I’ll do that,_ she thought. 

She cursed again as another demon began to rise up almost directly in front of her. She looked around hastily for something, anything she could use as a weapon. Suddenly her eyes fell upon a pair of simple iron daggers. She hurried over, careful to avoid slipping on the ice. They weren’t her ideal weapons, but she had made do with less before. She crouched and readied herself for the shade that appeared before her. As the demon closed in on her, she lashed out, going for the eyes glowing like hot coals. Then she retreated into stealth, planning to flank it as it shifted its attention to something else. When it did, she summoned the gifts granted to her from her vigil years ago and smote the demon, then digging her daggers deep into its back, killing it.

Cassandra sheathed her sword and glared over at her. “Did you use me as bait for that demon?”

Harriet huffed, “Of course not. I used you as a distraction.”

“That makes it so much better,” Cassandra deadpanned.

“Do you see what I have to work with,” Harriet griped, holding up her daggers.

“Yes, I see that you have weapons to defend yourself with. Stop complaining” Cassandra said. “Not your preferred method, I know, but still better than nothing. We should keep moving.”

Harriet followed her, sheathing her own daggers and hoping that they would happen upon a bow of some sort on the way.   
******************************************************************************************************************

“What did you do,” Harriet asked the strange bald elf after he graciously dropped her hand after shoving towards the rift.

“I did nothing,” he said. “The credit is yours.” Harriet had a feeling that she was going to end up punching him and his shiny, bald head at some point if he didn’t stop showing off.

“You mean this?” she asked.

“Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand,” he said. “I theorized that the mark be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake, and it seems I was correct.”

“Much to everyone’s relief, I’m sure,” Harriet replied. Whatever it was about this strange elf, she didn’t trust him. Solas, for his part, seemed unflustered by her remarks. Nearby, a dwarf with an impossible amount of chest hair appeared, adjusting his gloves. 

“‘Relieved’ is a word for it,” he said, “personally I’m just glad we won’t be ass deep in demons for now. Varric Tethras. Rogue, storyteller, and occasionally, unwelcome tagalong.” He winked at Cassandra who was wearing her usual scowl.

“Pleased to meet you Varric,” she replied.

“You may reconsider that in time,” said Solas.

Harriet ignored him. “I’m Harriet Trevelyan, Seeker of the Chantry,” she continued.

Varric’s eyebrows rose almost to the point of jumping off his face. “Another Trevelyan? And you’re a Seeker? You people really don’t aim low, do you?” He laughed richly, as if the Breach above them wasn’t about to destroy everything they knew and loved.

“Enlightening as this conversation is,” Cassandra interjected, “We should continue on to the forward camp.” She shifted her attention to Harriet. “Solas is an apostate, one particularly versed in the Fade.”

Harriet’s eyes narrowed. Solas seemed particularly convenient considering the crisis they faced. She turned to him. “You seem to know a great deal about what’s going on here,” she said slowly, suspicion sneaking into her voice.

Solas’ face was utterly bland. “Technically all mages are now apostates, Seekers,” he replied, “My travels have allowed me to learn more about the Fade than any mage from your Circles. I’ve offered whatever assistance I can give towards closing the Breach. If it is not close we are all doomed regardless of origin.”

Harriet merely nodded and turned to jump down the path. With any luck, Jason would be safe at the forward camp. If anyone could handle themselves in this mayhem, it would be Jason. She sent up a prayer to the Maker that her family was safe.  
******************************************************************************************************************

As they ran up the hill to the forward camp, Harriet heard the sickening crackle of a rift. Sure enough, she saw wisps and shades attacking a group of soldiers outside the compound. What she wasn’t expecting was Katheryn, Garos, and Mormont leading the soldiers against said demons, even though they had no way to actually close the rift.

She drew her daggers and began sneaking towards the shade that Mormont had engaged. She had every confidence in his abilities, but he was still more than 40 years old. She leaped out of the shadows and drove her daggers into the creature’s back. It howled and melted into the ground where it dissolved back into the Fade. Mormont looked up, surprised and broke out in a grin. “Good timing, girl,” he said. “Keep it up, we’re not out of the woods yet!”

Harriet nodded and turned to flank a wisp shooting harmlessly at Garos’ barrier spell. She stabbed it, her daggers sinking sluggishly into its ethereal body. She hated wisps. It was always so difficult to tell if she was doing any damage to them. As soon as she had attacked it, it summoned a barrier of its own. She cursed. Cassandra may have the ability to fight spells like Templars, but she hadn’t been so lucky when she received her gifts. She could smite demons and mages, but for the most part her abilities revolved around paralyzing them. But thank the Maker for Garos, the elf was able to dispel the barrier, leaving an opening for her to take the demon down.

She looked around in time to see Katheryn and Solas combining their knowledge of the Spirit school to take down their own wisp while Cassandra knocked one to the ground and Varric took it down with a shot from Bianca. The rift burst open with a hiss and she rose her hand to “pull” it closed. Her hand felt vaguely like it had fallen asleep. She ignored it in favor of turning to her companions of the past few years. Mormont was as solid as ever, used to the rigors of combat. Katheryn was bent over with her hands on her knees trying to catch her breath. Garos was talking with Solas about his use of Fade magic in the fight, his eyes bright and excited like a child who had just discovered something new and exciting.

“Glad to see you’re not dead,” Mormont said.

“The day’s still young,” she replied.

“True enough. Though if you can close the Breach maybe we’ll live to see tomorrow.”

Katheryn walked over and took the hand with the mark, studying it. “I have no idea what kind of magic this is,” she mused. “Nothing I could think of worked on them, but whatever this is can. How did you even acquire this?”

Harriet shrugged. “No idea. I can’t remember what happened at the Conclave, much less how I survived the Fade. We’ll probably never know.”

The gates opened and the three of them walked into the camp. To her dismay, Jason was nowhere to be found. Soldiers were waiting in tense anticipation, the Breach hovering in the sky overhead. The only people she recognized were Leliana and the priest she was talking to, a middle-aged man from the Grand Cathedral, Chancellor Roderick. She groaned inwardly, dreading actually talking to the man.

Chancellor Roderick hadn’t changed a bit from her time in Val Royeaux. On the few occasions that she had had to deal with the man while she was training with Cassandra, he had struck her as incredibly pompous, if still genuinely faithful in his belief in the Maker. He was simply a bureaucrat and fell for the occupational hazard of having a high ranking political job.

“Just face the truth that your precious apprentice has betrayed us all,” he shouted at Cassandra. “I order you to take her back into custody to be executed for her crimes!”

Harriet stepped back to let Cassandra handle this. “How dare you order me,” she snarled. “You aren’t remotely qualified to command Seekers to do anything.”

“And you are merely a thug meant to serve the Chantry! You have no authority to refuse me!”

“We serve the Divine, Chancellor, as you well know,” Leliana responded.

“Justinia is dead,” Roderick yelled. Harriet felt sorry for him, despite herself. As disagreeable as he was, his reaction was understandable. Harriet was still not quite sure that any of this was real. “We need the Grand Clerics to replace a new Divine to guide us. There’s no hope for any of this if the Chantry to reestablish order.”

“An interesting perspective,” Katheryn commented. “Considering the Chantry wasn’t even able to keep the Templars from rebelling.” 

“Indeed,” Solas chuckled.

“Isn’t closing the Breach a little more important than finding a new Divine at this point?” she demanded.

The Chancellor glared at her. “All of this is your doing, you traitor!” At that moment the Breach rumbled again and her mark flared to life in her hand. Harriet gritted her teeth, determined not to show weakness in front of this man. 

“We must get you to the temple,” Cassandra said, “The path through the battlefield is the quickest route.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Leliana countered. “If we use the soldiers as a distraction, we can take the path through the mountains and get you to the Breach safely.”

Cassandra shook her head vigorously. “We lost contact with the scouts you sent up there, we can’t take that risk.”

“Abandon this foolishness before more people die here,” the Chancellor begged.

The Breach rumbled again, and this time Harriet couldn’t hold back the gasp of pain that escaped her mouth when it came. Katheryn stepped toward her with a healing spell and tried to soothe the pain. It helped a little bit.

“Harriet, what do you think we should do,” Cassandra asked. Harriet thought for a moment. Whatever happened they would probably be in danger, but the practical part of her argued that she should take the mountain path, as it was out of the way of most of the danger. 

Katheryn interrupted her reverie. “Jason went with the commander to try and clear a path to the temple while we stayed to help with the rift here.”

Well that made things easier. “I say we charge.”  
****************************************************************************************************************** 

Jason made a flaming glyph explode over an incoming shade. He was beginning to sweat like a druffalo. This rift just wouldn’t quit. Waves of demons had emerged from it and they never seemed to slow down. Cullen seemed to be fairing marginally better, but even he was beginning to grow weary. Unfortunately, Cullen wasn’t a Templar anymore, and even though he was a good warrior, right now Jason wanted Mormont to cancel some Fade magic and smite some demons.

A rage demon emerged from the rift and he cursed. He braced himself and prepared for a long, grueling fight. Soldiers were all off fighting their own fights, leaving him and Cullen to fight this demon and whatever else followed. Cullen glanced at him and raised his shield to meet the demon.

If Jason lived to be a hundred he would always believe that his sister had been blessed with a remarkable sense of good timing. Suddenly the demon was surrounded by frost and frozen solid. Then she leaped out of the shadows and seemed to strike like lightning, hitting the demon from the flanks and sides. It fell with a terrible howl. There was no time to celebrate, however. Two shrieking terror demons leaped out of the Fade rift. One of them raised its claws towards Harriet before Cullen knocked her out of the way and blocked the blow. Jason raised his hands and unleashed a barrage of flaming bursts from his staff. Mormont appeared as well, charging it and knocking it firmly into the dirt. At that moment, Garos swirled his staff over his head and unleashed a bolt of lightning from his staff. Katheryn rushed over to Jason and began a healing spell to restore his dwindling energy reserves. Cassandra finished off the last demon and Harriet raised her hand to close the rift.

Jason allowed himself to be impressed by the feat itself. This was, without a doubt, some kind of magic spell personalized especially for Harriet and seared onto her skin. Green energy reached out towards the rift and flowed until the rift “snapped” closed. Just like that, the demons were gone. As Cassandra, Harriet, and Cullen gathered around to discuss the situation, Jason turned his attention towards the wounded. Katheryn was better at this kind of stuff, but his small gift with healing was able to relieve some wounds. Katheryn was over by a soldier who had been limping, her hands glowing with a golden energy as she worked to help him walk with less pain. During battle the most she could do was alleviate pain until the battle was over so she could look at specific wounds.

Garos walked up to him suddenly, looking angry. “I told you I should have come with you!” he hissed urgently. “You all were barely holding together and if it wasn’t for Harriet deciding to charge with the soldiers, you would probably be dead by now!”

Jason was taken aback for a moment. “I’m sorry…”

Garos glared at him. “Yeah, you’re sorry! After everything we’ve gone through in the past few years, you thought you could do this by yourself?”

“I wasn’t by myself, there was a whole squad of soldiers,” he argued, “and they needed someone who could use magic against the demons!”

“I know,” Garos shouted. His eyes fell to the ground and his shoulders slumped. “I know,” he said more quietly. “Just… never do that again.”

Jason smiled and hugged his friend. “Come on,” he said, “we should keep close to the others. That Breach won’t close itself, you know.”

Garos hugged him a little longer and then stepped back, wiping his eyes and nodded. Jason slung an arm around his shoulders and went to join his sister and the rest of their companions. The temple was just ahead; hopefully this would all be over soon.  
******************************************************************************************************************

Harriet stared up at the Breach, or more accurately, the giant rift with rivers of green energy reaching up towards the Breach. None of her training as a Seeker had prepared her for the rifts, much less a giant hole into the Fade. She was already thinking of the worst case scenario, if Solas’ plan didn’t work, the Breach would grow until it killed her and the only hope they had of ever closing it. There was almost no point in wondering what would happen if it did work since no plan ever just worked. They made their way down to the basin, careful to avoid the garish and lethal red lyrium that had mysteriously appeared in the ruins of the temple. Some booming deep voice resounded out from the rift, talking about victory and a sacrifice. Then, as they neared the bottom of the crater, Divine Justinia’s voice rang out, crying for help.

“Divine Justinia! That’s her voice,” Cassandra exclaimed. Harriet continued forward, hoping that some kind of answer awaited at the end when her own voice sounded. Whatever had happened, Harriet was clearly there, but she still couldn’t think of what exactly had happened. They reached the bottom and the rift flared, displaying some sort of vision like a waking dream. A giant shadowy figure stood in front of the Divine, who seemed to be held by some kind of magic. The images themselves were too blurry to make out anything definitive. Then an image of Harriet appeared, interrupting whatever was going on. 

“What’s going on here?” the Fade-Harriet demanded.

“Run while you can!” Divine Justinia shouted, “Warn them!”

“We have an intruder,” the shadowy figure announced, “Kill her! Now!”

The scene vanished before they could learn anything else. Cassandra rounded on her. “You were there,” she gasped, “Who attacked? And the Divine, is she—Was this vision true? What are we seeing?”

“I don’t remember anything, Cassandra,” Harriet said. “I want to know what’s going on here as much as you do!”

Solas spoke quietly “This scene was an echo of what happened here. The rift Breach is bleeding into this place, showing us what happened here, or a version of it at any rate.” He turned to address their other companions, “This rift is not sealed, but it’s closed. However, it cannot last. Our only chance now is to open again so we can seal again properly.”

Garos spoke up, “Won’t doing that attract demons towards us?”

Solas nodded and Cassandra shouted to the soldiers to brace themselves. Once the soldiers and archers were in place, Cassandra nodded towards Harriet and she raised her hand to open the rift. This one pulled at her more, taking more power than any of the other rifts. At the very moment that the rift opened, a pride demon emerged, roaring monstrously and Cassandra raised her sword and signaled the attack to begin. Arrows bounced harmlessly off its skin, swords glanced off its hide, and though Jason’s magic could burn it, the demon seemed unfazed by any of it. And on top of all that, this creature had a slew of lightning magic abilities that it routinely directed at anyone who stepped into its path. Of all the kinds of demons that could have come through, Harriet thought, it had to be a Pride demon.

As much as Harriet hated it, she steered clear of the demon. There was no way to close the Breach without the mark on her hand. Solas found her on the battlefield and pointed up to the rift, which had closed again. “Use your mark to open the rift again!”

“Are you insane,” she asked, “Won’t that just bring more demons through?”

“Maybe, but the Fade energy that emerges from it will also stun the demon, giving us a fighting chance against it,” he shouted urgently. Harriet didn’t have any better ideas, so she raised her hand again and began to open the rift again. Sure enough, when it opened the demon stumbled and fell to one knee.

“The demon is vulnerable! Now!” Cassandra urged. Harriet still kept her distance from it, in case it came to and decided that she would make a good target. Unfortunately, she turned out to be right, as well. Shades had appeared in addition to the Pride demon, and they hadn’t been stunned by her disrupting the rift. She drew her daggers and lowered herself into a defensive stance. Suddenly Jason was by her side and he raised a flaming wall, sending the demons fleeing away from them. 

“Focus on the rift,” he said, “We’ll take care of the demons.” Harriet nodded and looked up at the rift and crept around the field, staying away from any of the fighting. As soon as the demon closed again, she began to disrupt it again.

Meanwhile, Cassandra and Mormont drew the attention of the Pride demon while the mages and rogues flanked it, unleashing arrows and spells in equal measure. Solas kept up barriers around them while Cassandra and Mormont used the full range of their abilities. Jason set up fire glyphs and mines at the demons feet. Garos slowed it with ice spells, even as there was no way he could actually freeze it. Varric and Leliana took advantage of whatever weakness or appearance of weakness that presented itself. 

The advantage didn’t last long, as soon as the demon regained its footing, its hide hardened once again and their abilities became useless once more. Jason turned toward Katheryn, the only mage not attacking it, instead supporting and healing the rest of them and shot a ball of lightning directly at her. She turned to run, too slowly, and the lightning hit her and she screamed, collapsing to the ground. Jason raced over to her and checked her pulse. Blessedly, it was there, and he began a rudimentary healing spell, wishing that he had been able to learn more of them. 

Their defense crumbled, until Harriet was able to disrupt the rift again, buying them a little more time. Solas arrived to help him revive Katheryn. Jason continued his healing spell until Katheryn finally stirred. Garos appeared by his side. “We need you back there, I’ll get her to safety.” He picked her up and fled over to the side of the battle. Jason cast a barrier around himself and charged the demon, summoning a spirit blade and striking the demon repeatedly. The demon growled and lashed out with its claws, but the barrier held, if barely. He struck again, and combined with Mormont’s Templar abilities and Cassandra’s Seeker gifts, they managed to bring the demon down.

“Now!” Cassandra rang out, “Seal the rift!”

Harriet raised her hand and put all of the strange power her mark had into closing the rift. For one terrible moment, it seemed like the plan would fail, the mark wasn’t powerful enough to seal the rift and that all their effort that day would be for naught and Harriet’s fate would be sealed with the ever-expanding Breach. But then the rift closed, and the energy exploded, rippling up to the Breach and sending a shockwave over the landscape. As the dust cleared, Jason looked for his twin and found her collapsed unconscious on the ground.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the beginning of the Inquisition. The Trevelyans and company have their first adventures with the Inquisition companions. Varric gives them nicknames. If anyone is familiar with the show Firefly, you will appreciate the Trevelyans' nicknames.

Harriet strode into the Chantry, Cassandra at her side. She stared down at her hand, the mark still glowing like a lantern hung perpetually on her body.

“Does it trouble you?” her mentor asked. Even considering how much Harriet had been through since the Circles dissolved, she sometimes thought she would be lost without Cassandra.

“Aside from the fact that it didn’t close the Breach, you mean?” she asked. “It isn’t spreading and it doesn’t hurt.”

“Thank the Maker for small mercies, then,” Cassandra said. “As for the Breach, Solas believes that with time and power, we can still use the mark to close it. The same level of power used to open the Breach in the first place.”

Harriet raised her eyebrows. “Couldn’t that kind of power just make things worse?” she asked. “Much as I trust my siblings and Garos, I’m not so sure that the rest of the mages warrant that kind of trust.”

“Suspicion is natural for our profession,” Cassandra replied, “but I’m afraid you may have spent too much time around me if that is your first thought.”

Harriet grinned. “I strive to achieve your level of sheer optimism, Master.”

Cassandra snorted and rolled her eyes as she headed toward the war room. As they entered the room, there was one figure who drew her eyes. Commander Cullen.

“I’m pleased to see that you survived,” he said. Harriet felt warm as he smiled at her, which she immediately dismissed, or attempted to, at any rate. He was the Commander, she couldn’t go swooning every time he glanced in her general direction.

Cassandra continued the introductions, which Harriet only half paid attention to, as she attempted very adamantly not to look at the Commander. Or his warm amber eyes or his light blond hair styled so that it swept back over his head and out of his face. Her mentor clearing her throat brought her back to the present. “I mentioned that your mark needed more power in order to seal the Breach.”

Leliana, because there was really no one more suited to be the Inquisition’s spymaster than the Left Hand of the Divine, continued, “Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help.”

“And I still disagree,” Cullen countered, clearly getting back into the routine of a familiar argument. “The Templars would serve just as well.”

Cassandra sighed. “We need power, Commander. Enough magic poured into that Breach—”

“Might destroy us all,” Cullen interrupted.

“He has a fair point,” Harriet commented.

Cullen nodded, grinning in satisfaction to gain someone on his side. “Templars could suppress the Breach, weaken it so—”

“Pure speculation,” Leliana broke in. 

Cullen scowled at her. “ _I_ was a Templar. I know what they’re capable of.”

“Unfortunately neither group will even speak to us yet,” Josephine interjected. “The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition, and you specifically,” she said to Harriet.

“Of course they have,” Harriet sighed.

“Some are calling you the Herald of Andraste. That frightens the Chantry,” Josephine added. “The remaining Grand Clerics have declared it blasphemy and the Inquisition a band of heretics for harboring you.”

“That sounds like Chancellor Roderick’s doing,” Harriet replied.

Josephine nodded. “It limits our options. Going to the mages or Templars for help is currently out of the question.”

“It’s quite the title isn’t it,” Cullen said, with that insufferable grin again, “How do you feel about that?”

Had Harriet not been through the Seekers’ vigil, this might have unnerved her. However, there was nothing that really concerned her about being called the Herald of Andraste. Perhaps it was the Spirit of Faith that had touched her mind when the vigil was completed or maybe it was just who she was as a person. “I don’t mind it at all,” she said.

“People are desperate for a sign of hope,” Leliana said. “For some, you’re that sign.”

“And to others a symbol of everything that’s gone wrong,” Josephine continued.

Harriet frowned at that. “So if I wasn’t with the Inquisition…”

“Let’s be honest,” Cullen said, “They would have censored us no matter what.”

“There is something you can do for us,” Leliana added, “A Chantry cleric named Mother Giselle has asked to speak with you.”

Harriet thought for a moment. “I know that name,” she said. “Didn’t Divine Justinia mention her on occasion when she was sending help where the fighting was worst?”

Leliana nodded with a hint of a smile. “Yes, that is her. She’s an unpopular figure in some circles of the Chantry, but a brave one, nevertheless. You will find her near the crossroads near Redcliffe tending to refugees.”  
************************************************************************************************************

As they left the war room some time later, Harriet stopped Cassandra. “What about my family?” she asked. “Did they make it out of the temple?”

Cassandra nodded. “Yes, they did. The Trevelyans are a strong bunch, it would seem,” she replied. “However, Katheryn was wounded in the fighting and still recovering.”

Harriet’s heart quickened. “Where is she?” she asked.

“She’s in the healing huts. I’ll take you there.”

The healing huts turned out to be a set of three buildings where a grouchy alchemist named Adan spent his time muttering to himself about his job and mixed poultices and potions for whoever happened to be in need. Katheryn was sitting near a fire wrapped in a shawl knitting one of her patterns and she smiled when she noticed Harriet.

“You’re awake,” she exclaimed. “I’m so glad. And you’re the Herald of Andraste. Not too shabby for the youngest Trevelyan.”

Harriet smiled down at her sister. “What’s got you in here?” she asked. “Your limbs look fine to me.”

Katheryn chuckled then grimaced. “The demon we were fighting sent me flying with one of those balls of lightning,” she said, sliding up the sleeves of her robe to reveal bandages along her arms. “The burns are easy enough to treat and shouldn’t scar. But I also broke some of my ribs when I landed. Looks like my adventuring days with you are on hiatus.”

Harriet nodded. “I'm so sorry, this is my fault," she said. "How long will it take you to heal?”

Katheryn shrugged slightly. “None of that nonsense, now,” she replied, glaring up at her little sister. She looked for all the world like the strict mentor Jason knew as a child. “It's no more your fault for me being here than it is my fault for that mark on your hand. Do you understand?"

Harriet opened her mouth to protest, but thought better of it when Katheryn's left eyebrow arched slightly. "Yes, Katheryn. I understand."

Her sister's face was cold as she stared up at her. Harriet got the feeling that she was being assessed and wondered if there was any way to fool someone who dealt with unruly apprentices as adeptly as Katheryn. Finally she began to speak again, apparently having reached some sort of private conclusion.

"Right. Well, as far as my recovery is concerned... it's hard to say," she said. "Bones are tricky to heal, since healing them too quickly can cause them not to set properly. Ribs are a bit trickier since we can’t see them most of the time. Magic will help with the pain and speed up the process slightly, but it will still be a few weeks before they heal completely.”

“I’m glad,” Harriet said. “I’m heading out to the Hinterlands to see what can be done about getting the Chantry on our side. I’ll see you when we get back.”

Katheryn waved her away and picked up her knitting again. “I swear, if you let some bear or something kill you I’m bringing you back so I can kill you again.”

“Naturally,” she grinned back at her as she exited the hut. _Next to find Jason, Mormont, and Garos so they can prepare for the journey,_ she thought. _There's no way I can leave them behind._  
************************************************************************************************************

The Hinterlands, it turned out, were beautiful, despite the ever present threat of death due to the conflict between mages and Templars. They had arrived at the crossroads to discover that the place had become something of a battlefield as a skirmish unfolded with Inquisition soldiers in the middle trying to protect the refugees. Harriet nocked an arrow and aimed for one of the Templars, using her power to paralyze him just enough for him to become an easier target. The arrow sunk into a bit of exposed neck and the knight fell to the ground and blood fountained from the wound.

She took one of her sleep bombs and lugged it at a pair of Templars heading for Jason. As soon as they succumbed to sleep, Jason inscribed one of his glyphs and fire exploded out from beneath them. They awoke screaming and terrified as fire consumed them. Nearby, Cassandra and Mormont were drawing the attention of a mage’s mercenaries. Harriet allowed herself a moment to wonder where exactly these mages had acquired the money to hire sell swords. She found the mage himself and began to fire at him to prevent him from focusing enough to cast a spell. Varric joined her from his vantage point on a hill and together they hailed arrows down on the mage, wearing down his barrier bit by bit. The mage held together until Garos dispelled the barrier and they were able to kill him with relative ease.

Harriet almost relaxed before she heard even more Templars running toward them, no doubt noticing the mages with them and deciding to take matters into their own hands. She was beginning to feel exasperated that these Templars had abandoned their duties so completely. She thanked the Maker for Mormont of course, but damn if she didn’t sometimes wish that the rest of the Order hadn’t lost their minds.

Fortunately, it seemed that these Templars hadn’t had any lyrium in a while, so their ability to cancel spells and smite mages was mitigated. Solas and Garos worked to immobilize them so Harriet and Varric could shatter them with their arrows while the warriors drew their attention away from the more squishy members of the party. As the last Templar fell, a giant of a man who had proven more than a match for both Mormont and Cassandra, Harriet began to relax.

“These people left the Order just to terrorize civilians,” she muttered. “How did they ever become Templars in the first place?”

“I assume they didn’t get the speech about protection and noble self-sacrifice that you got, Firefly,” Varric said.

“Firefly? That’s the nickname you chose for me?”

“Well, you glow, periodically. And you fire arrows. It works.”

Harriet grimaced. She’d never really had a nickname as a kid, aside from Jason occasionally calling her “Harry,” when she was being stubborn or willful. She watched as Jason directed soldiers to assist refugees and gather the wounded to receive healing from the various mages assembled. Once the Inquisition had soldiers here to protect the refugees, they would be able to do more to help them. But first they needed an actual presence in the Hinterlands beyond simply having soldiers here and there.

“By the way, Firefly,” Varric segued, “shouldn’t you be helping with this? Your brother seems to be doing the organizational work here.”

Harriet looked down at him. “Should I? It’s not like I’m the leader of the Inquisition.”

Varric shrugged. “No, but you are the Herald of Andraste, or so they say,” he said. “It wouldn’t hurt for the people to see you helping out.”

“Jason has a good enough grasp on things at the moment,” she said, “Too many people giving orders might cause confusion.”

“I suppose,” Varric replied, “But remember that you’re the one that people look to for hope, not your brother. He may lead, but you’re the one everyone talks about.”

Harriet frowned. She really didn’t care about leading an Inquisition. She would be happily content simply being a member as long as her family was safe. As far as she was concerned, they could find someone else to be the Inquisitor.  
************************************************************************************************************

Jason watched as the last demon fell and Harriet closed the rift at Redcliffe’s farms. It was fascinating to see how quickly using this magic had become second nature to someone who had never even had the slightest bit of magic before. “Do you think that’s enough to get the Chantry’s attention?” he asked. “The sooner we can meet with them, the better.” 

“It should be,” Cassandra said, “Even the most stubborn clerics will notice reports of rifts being closed.”

“Then let’s return to Haven,” he replied. “Josephine will be able to put forth the call we need to get them to assemble.”  
************************************************************************************************************ 

Jason shivered and wrapped his cloak around himself as they neared the village. Whatever Haven had been before this, it surely wasn’t worth being isolated in the middle of nowhere. How Katheryn enjoyed the isolation was beyond him, but then again, he had met few mages more suited to Circle life than his older sister. Jason would have been perfectly happy if the Divine had announced that the Conclave would take place in Antiva, or Rivain or any place in northern Thedas. Someplace warmer than Ferelden, at least.

He made his way to the Chantry to report to Josephine about the status of their mission. As soon as he opened the door to her office, he was confronted with an argument between her and a noble of some sort.

“The Inquisition cannot remain, ambassador, if you can’t prove it was founded on Justinia’s orders,” the noble insisted.

“This is an inopportune time, Marquis, more of the faithful flock here each day,” she replied. She seemed completely unruffled to see Jason enter the room. “But allow me introduce you to one of the brave souls who helped slow the magic of the Breach and the brother of our own Herald of Andraste.

“Lord Trevelyan, allow me to introduce Marquis DuRellion, one of Divine Justinia’s greatest supporters—”

“And rightful owner of Haven,” the marquis interjected. “House DuRellion lent Justinia this land for a pilgrimage. This Inquisition is not a beneficiary of this arrangement.”

Jason thought quickly. Dealing with nobles had been one facet of his life, even as a Circle mage. “Interesting, considering the Inquisition was begun by the Left and Right Hands of the Divine.”

“I’ve seen no written records that Justinia approved the Inquisition,” he countered.

Josephine glanced at Jason. “If he won’t take her at her word, I’m afraid Seeker Pentaghast must challenge him to a duel,” she declared nonchalantly.

Jason was willing to bet that the marquis’ face blanched underneath his ridiculous mask. “What?!”

“It is a matter of honor among the Nevarrans,” she explained. “Shall I arrange the bout for tonight?” She moved to make a not on her board in preparation.

“No!” he declared quickly, “Perhaps my reaction to the Inquisition was a bit… hasty.” He sighed in resignation and turned away.

Josephine approached him. “We face a dark time Marquis,” she said gently, “Divine Justinia would not want to see her passing divide us. She would, in fact, trust us to forge new alliances, no matter how incredulous they might seem.”

The marquis turned around. “I’ll think on it, Lady Montilyet,” he granted, “The Inquisition… might stay in the meanwhile.”

As soon as the marquis departed the room, Jason looked at Josephine. “Do the DuRellions actually have a claim on this place?” he asked. If it were true, it could become potentially problematic if the Inquisition was going to make Haven a base of operations for the foreseeable future, much as he would rather it be otherwise.

“His grace’s position is not so strong as he presents it,” she said. “Despite his Ferelden relations, the DuRellions are Orlesian. If the marquis wishes to claim Haven, Empress Celene must negotiate with Ferelden on his behalf. Her current concerns are a bit larger than minor property disputes.”

That was a relief. “I’m so sorry intruding,” he said. “I didn’t realize you were meeting with the marquis.”

Josephine smiled reassuringly. “You did little harm. In truth the debate was most beneficial as practice for more to come.”

“You expect there to be more people in Haven?” he asked.

“Undoubtedly. And each of them will carry stories of the Inquisition after they depart.” She moved to sit down at her simple desk so she could more easily write whatever documents needed to be written. “An ambassador should ensure that their visit be as complementary as possible.”

“The Inquisition is lucky to have you as an advocate, Lady Montilyet,” Jason replied, making a small bow in respect.

“Thank you. Thedas’ politics have become agitated as of late,” she responded. “I hope to guide us down smoother paths. But please excuse me, I have much work left to be done today.”

Jason took a moment longer to admire her. She really was an extraordinary woman if she could meet with nobles and dignitaries all day, every day. He was a noble, but there were many times after parties or salons with his family that he was glad that being a mage meant that he didn’t have to deal with other nobles nearly as often as his siblings did. Even Harriet had spent time meeting with nobles while she was training in Val Royeaux, mostly at Leliana’s insistence, he had gathered. Cassandra was many things, but a diplomat was not one of them.

Harriet was leaning on the wall opposite from the room, massaging her temples. “You missed the riot going on outside,” she said.

Jason’s eyebrows shot up. “A riot? What happened?”

Harriet sighed. “Some mages and Templars were getting riled up over who did or didn’t kill the Divine at the Conclave,” she explained. “Cullen intervened before any fighting actually broke out, but that Chancellor is going to be the end of me, I swear.”

“Let me guess, he wants us to submit to the proper Chantry authority?” he asked.

“Exactly. At any rate, I’m about to call the war council,” she said. “I’d like you to be there to help plan our next steps.”

Jason blinked for a moment. “Any particular reason for why you want me in there? Not that I mind, it’s just surprising.”

“Why? Because I’m the Herald of Andraste?” she asked.

“Well, there’s that,” he replied.

Harriet sighed again. “You give good advice, that’s all.”

Jason nodded. “Of course, if you want me to be there then I’ll be there.”

“Excellent,” she declared. “The meeting will start as soon as I’ve got this headache under control.”  
************************************************************************************************************

About an hour later, Jason stood in the war room as the subject of getting the Chantry clerics to meet with them was presented to the Inquisition’s leaders. It didn’t go nearly as badly as he was expecting, which was universal refusal to even consider negotiating with the Chantry. Josephine was the only person who seemed to think the idea had any merit at all. 

“Mother Giselle isn’t wrong,” she argued, “At the moment the Chantry’s only strength is that they are united in the opinion that the Herald of Andraste is a dangerous heretic.”

“And we should ignore the danger to the Herald?” Leliana countered.

“Let’s ask her.”

Harriet shrugged. “What can they do? It’s just talk,” she said noncommittedly.

Jason turned to her. “That’s how it started out in the Circles,” he said, “People started talking about breaking away from the Chantry and rebelling, and then they did.”

Harriet looked at him. “So what are you saying, that the Chantry clerics will dissolve the Inquisition simply by denouncing us in public?”

“Not necessarily,” he replied, “But if they can turn the people against us, then they can effectively cripple us. Even if they aren’t high ranking, people respect the Chantry and they’ll listen to what they say.”

Josephine appeared impressed by his understanding of the situation. “Exactly,” she said, “our goal here isn’t so much to get the Chantry on our side, but to fracture them.”

“I disagree,” Cullen interjected, “It just lends credence to the belief that we should care what the Chantry says.”

“I will go with her,” Cassandra said. “Mother Giselle said she could provide us names. Use them.”

“But why?” Leliana demanded. “This is nothing but a—”

“What choice do we have, Leliana?” Cassandra countered, “Right now we can’t approach anyone for help with the Breach. Use what influence we’ve gathered to call the clerics together. Once we are ready, we will see this through.”  
************************************************************************************************************

The journey to Val Royeaux was surprisingly peaceful, considering the Mage-Templar war and the Orlesian civil war going on. Jason and Garos were traveling side by side reminiscing about the good old days in the tower. Garos in particular was remembering some of the pranks he had pulled on some of the enchanters.

“Remember the time we used that grease spell on Enchanter Kendal and dumped a bucket of feathers on him?”

“Only too well,” Jason groaned, but he smiled despite himself. “He ran around after us with his staff waving in the air, looking like a giant chicken! I’ve never him run that fast!”

Solas stared over at the two of them. “How did the two of you ever become full mages in your Circle?”

Garos grinned back at him. “Jason was too handsome and I had too much natural talent and charm,” he said with a dramatic pose. “They could never bring themselves to send us away.”

“I was fourteen and you were twelve,” Jason said. 

“And they knew that they would one day bask in our greatness,” Garos replied.

Varric chuckled at him. “I think I’m going to like you, Snowflake.” 

“Snowflake? Really?” Garos asked. “Well, I suppose it makes more sense than ‘Firefly’. I can work with this.”

Cassandra made some sort of disgusted noise, which Harriet seemed to find amusing. She smiled in a way that reminded Jason of how she used to look at their mother when she was goading her. He could see some of the resemblance. Cassandra was, in a way, very similar to their mother. She was fearless, driven, and completely certain in her own faith and purpose in the world. The only difference seemed to be that their mother gave up the path she had been on in favor of love, whereas Cassandra had dedicated her life to the Chantry.

In the course of the trip to Val Royeaux, Varric had dubbed Mormont “Shepherd,” since he apparently seemed to keep everyone else in line. On the first morning of their journey, Mormont had gone into the tent to rouse Katheryn and Jason, who were the literal opposite of morning people and managed to coax them into just enough wakefulness to get them moving. Garos and Harriet had taken this in stride, apparently used to their companions’ lazy starts in the morning.

Jason was dubbed “Cap” because Varric apparently thought that he was the leader. Aside from his obvious and consistent aversion to anything remotely related to the word, “morning,” he generally took charge of much of their organization and planning during the trip, another role that the rest of his family had grown accustomed to. 

Katheryn, who had recovered just in time to make the journey to the capital, received the nickname, “Serenity,” which made even less sense but which Varric declared fit her perfectly. This particular nickname was earned one morning when Katheryn, still dreary eyed from waking up in the morning, had offered Solas tea out of the goodness of her heart. When he declared that he hated tea, she walked over to him, her face straight as a wall, and splashed a cup into his face. She then walked calmly back to the fire and continued brewing her tea.

After a couple weeks of traveling, they reached Val Royeaux and the beautiful, sparkling city rose up to greet them. Katheryn began talking excitedly about going shopping for silks, velvet, and brocade and having new tailored dresses and robes.

“You do realize that we have virtually no money, right?” Jason asked her.

“That, dear brother,” she replied, “is a minor detail. The Trevelyans have a great deal of money.”

“And mother is going to be only too happy that you made her foot the bill for your shopping spree?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” she said smugly. “Mother knows that her daughters can’t very well look like vagabonds, even if we’re forced to live like them.”

Jason looked over at Harriet who shrugged. “It’s true,” she admitted. “We routinely get new clothes so that we are never unpresentable. The only reason we don’t go more often is because we’re never near a decent marketplace long enough to get anything.”

Jason stared at the two of them completely baffled before Mormont came up to him and laid a hand on his shoulder, “Don’t think too hard about it,” he said, “If you were fashion conscious, you would understand.”

Jason turned his gaze to Mormont. “You too? Why on earth would you need to go to a marketplace regularly?”

Mormont gave an indignant huff. “I can’t wear armor all the time, boy,” he said, “You mages have it easy. Your robes work just as well as normal clothing. I have to wear armor if I’m going to be useful at all. It’s nice to have good clothes for the times when I don’t have to be ready to defend myself at a moment’s notice.”

Jason made to protest and then thought better of it. They were nearing the city, and if the rest of his family wanted to go gallivanting off to go shopping for the latest Orlesian disasters that they called clothing, that was their business.

The plaza where the crowd was gathering for the meeting between the Chantry clerics and the Inquisition was large and bright, much like the rest of the city. There were a few shops in the periphery of the crowd, which Mormont gently steered Katheryn and Harriet away from and glimmering lion statues which he had to keep Garos away from lest he decide to climb up on one to watch the proceedings.

A Chantry mother stepped forward on the platform raised in front of one of the paths into the plaza. “Good people of Val Royeaux, hear me!” she proclaimed. “Together, we mourn our Divine. Her naïve and beautiful heart silenced by treachery. You wonder what will become of her murderer. Well, wonder no more.” She gestured toward Harriet in the crowd and people moved away from her as if she were poisonous. 

“Behold, the so-called Herald of Andraste, claiming to rise where our beloved fell," the Revered Mother cried. "We say this is a false prophet! A traitor to the Seekers of Truth and no servant of anything beyond her selfish greed!”

As much as Jason wanted to speak up, to challenge the claims of this loudmouthed priest, he knew that they had come as much to hear the Herald of Andraste as they had to hear the Chantry denounce her. Harriet, for her part, did not disappoint. “And do you know everything the Maker commands?” she countered. “Look up at the sky! I alone survived the Breach and I can end it.”

“It’s true,” Cassandra added, speaking up. “The Inquisition only seeks to end this madness before it is too late.”

Jason’s heart sunk as the crowd remained silent and unmoved by their plea. Then he saw movement at the edge of the plaza and his heart began to descend into his stomach.

“It is already too late,” the Chantry Mother insisted. She gestured towards where Jason had been looking to reveal a retinue of Templars led by a middle aged man with graying hair. “The Templars have returned to the Chantry! They will face this Inquisition and the people will be safe once more!”

The Templars, however, seemed not the least bit interested in her words as they passed her by. One of them rose his fist and punched her in the face, sending her sprawling to the ground in shock. Another went to assist her until he was stopped by the middle aged leader. “Still yourself,” he said dramatically, “She is beneath us.”

Jason was unable to stay silent any longer. “How dare you? What’s the meaning of this intrusion?”

The man refused to acknowledge his presence aside from answering his question. “Her claim to authority was an insult. Much like the Inquisition’s.”

He turned to descend from the platform. Cassandra and Harriet went forward to meet with him, confusion and recognition displayed clearly on their faces. “Lord Seeker Lucius, It’s imperative that we speak with—” Cassandra began.

“You will not address me,” he interrupted.

“Lord Seeker? I don’t understand,” Cassandra said.

Whoever this Lord Seeker was, it was clear that he thought highly of himself. This grandstanding and posturing seemed to reflect someone who probably went mad with power from commanding such a large military force. The Templars may have been Jason’s enemies in the war for the past few years, but he had to admit that their skills were unquestionably strong.

“Creating a heretical movement, raising up a puppet as Andraste’s prophet? You should be ashamed,” Lucius declared. “You should all be ashamed! The Templars failed no one when they left the Chantry to purge the mages! You are the ones who have failed, you would leash our swords with doubt and fear. If you came to appeal to the Chantry, you are too late. The only destiny here that demands respect is mine!”

“Templars,” Harriet projected, “one of your own commands the Inquisition’s forces. Join us, as he did and together we can close the Breach in the sky!”

Lucius scoffed. “A staunch and loyal member of the Order!” he dismissed. “So loyal he abandoned his brothers for a false Herald that takes in the rebel mages! You’re all traitors just by being in their company.”

“But Lord Seeker,” the Templar who had moved to help the Mother before protested, “What if she really was sent by the Maker? What if—”

An officer stepped up to him. “You are called to a higher purpose, Ser Barris. Do not question.”

The Lord Seeker returned his attention to Harriet and Cassandra. “I will make the Templar Order a power that stands alone against the Void,” he declared. “We deserve recognition, independence! Templars, Val Royeaux is unworthy of our protection! We march!”

The Templars turned to follow the Lord Seeker, much to Jason’s disappointment since none of them had been swayed by the Herald of Andraste’s words, even though she was also a Seeker of Truth. It wasn’t surprising, in truth. From what Jason had gathered in the past few years, Templars were good at fighting and following their superiors’ orders and not much else. Even then, they had defied the Divine when they left so they weren’t even that good at following orders.

Varric arrived from some point in the crowd with the others trailing behind him. “Charming fellow, isn’t he?” he deadpanned.

“Has Lord Seeker Lucius gone mad?” Harriet asked. “I’ve never met him, but from you’ve told me, Cassandra, he didn’t seem like the sort who would show up just to make a fool of the Chantry and declare independence.”

“No, he wasn’t,” Cassandra replied. “He was always a decent man, this is very bizarre.”

“Thankfully the Templars aren’t our only option,” Jason said. “The mages are probably the better option, anyway, considering the threat we face.”

Cassandra didn’t immediately reject his opinion, which was somewhat encouraging. “I wouldn’t write them off so quickly. There must be some in the Order who’ve seen what he’s become. Either way, we should return to Haven and inform the others.”  
************************************************************************************************************

The journey back to Haven featured two more additions to their party who could not be more different. The first was some elven prankster/archer who was apparently something called a “Red Jenny”. Sera refused to expound upon what a Red Jenny was or what she did exactly beyond apparently get some kind of mischievous revenge on nobles for being assholes to their servants. Madame de Fer, on the other hand, was the image of elegance, refinement, and upper class. Sera had decided to pass the journey back to Haven by making farting and belching noises, shenanigans with which she found an eager accomplice once she progressed to pranking her travelling companions. Garos helped her in every way he could. Their first night they put whoopy cushions beneath Vivienne and laughed uncontrollably as she had sat down elegantly on her plush cushion, only to emit a distinctly inelegant noise.

Jason, for once, refused to come to Garos’ rescue as they were frozen solid in repayment. If he and Sera were going to make a regular practice of pranking members of the Inquisition, he was determined to stay far away from them to avoid being caught in the inevitable crossfire. 

About halfway through their return trip, he found Harriet to begin planning their next steps. “What do you think of Grand Enchanter Fiona’s offer?” he asked.

“It’s conveniently timed, I’ll give it that,” she responded. “We’ll have to see what the Inquisition’s leaders think of it.”

“Why?” he asked. When she gave him a puzzled look, he continued, “We sit in on the war council meetings, don’t you think we can start figuring this out ourselves?”

“Well, the mages would be the obvious choice,” Harriet said, “but something about what the Lord Seeker is doing seems worth investigating. Something’s not right about what we saw in Val Royeaux.”

“Can we afford the time to pursue both?” he asked. “The Breach isn’t exactly going to let us take all the time we need.”

“You’re probably right,” she conceded. “Still, I can’t help but wonder what Lucius is doing with the Templar Order.”

“Leliana might be able to tell us more when we get back,” he pointed out. “Can he be reasoned with?”

“I don’t know, I never met him personally,” Harriet said, “but from what I’ve heard from Cassandra, I would have thought that he would at least be open to some kind of negotiation.”

“Then it sounds like we should meet with the mages first,” Jason said. “They approached us with an invitation; we should at least meet with them to hear what they have to say.”

“And you being a mage has nothing to do with that?” Harriet asked, teasing him slightly.

Jason grinned back at her. “No, not at all,” he replied. “Just like you being a Seeker has nothing to do with you wanting to figure out what Lucius is up to.”

“Naturally,” she said, “the two are not at all related.”  
************************************************************************************************************

They returned to Haven just as the sun was beginning to set. Harriet made her way over to the practice field, where soldiers were making their drills under the watchful eye of Commander Cullen. She was immediately glad that she had decided to include Jason in the war council meetings. Aside from his natural instincts as a leader, his presence made it easier to focus on what they were planning and not on the Commander himself. As she neared him she could hear him ridiculing one of the recruits who didn’t quite understand what the point of a shield was.

“We’ve received a number of recruits,” he said to her, “Local volunteers, militia, and some Templars. None made quite the entrance you did.”

“At least I got everyone’s attention,” she said, “Aside from the massive hole in the sky, anyway.”

“That you did,” he replied, “Cassandra was the one who recruited me into the Inquisition. I was commanding the Templars in Kirkwall during the mage uprising. I saw firsthand the devastation it caused.” An assistant delivered a report of some kind without interrupting him.

“Cassandra sought a solution. When she offered me a position commanding the Inquisition’s soldiers I left the Templars to join her cause. Now it seems we face something far worse.”

Harriet was impressed. It was rare for someone to leave the Templars, never mind to go on to hold such a powerful position. “You left the Templars for this. Do you think the Inquisition can work?”

“I do. The Chantry lost control of the mages and the Templars followed suit. Now all they can do is argue over who the next Divine will be while the Breach remains,” he said. “The Inquisition can act to restore order where the Chantry has failed. Our followers can be part of that, there’s so much we can accomplish.” He paused to take a breath before he began a true monologue. “Forgive me, I doubt you came here for a lecture.”

Harriet smiled at his enthusiasm. “No but if you have one prepared, I’d love to hear it.”

Cullen chuckled. “Another time, perhaps.” He looked at her smiling face and lost his voice. He turned away and cleared his throat and employed a tactical retreat from an overwhelming foe. “Still a lot of work to be done.”

Fate seemed to be on his side as another assistant approached him. “Commander, Ser Rylan has a report on our supply lines.”

He smiled as he departed. “As I was saying…”  
************************************************************************************************************

Jason opened the door to Josephine’s office to deliver bits of weapons and creatures they had encountered in their journeys to the apprentice tasked with studying them. As soon as he had entered the room Josephine spoke.

“Ah, Lord Trevelyan, may I have a moment?” she requested.

“Certainly, Ambassador.”

“I’d like to discuss your parents,” she said simply.

The request was a little out of the blue, but he decided to tease her about the phrasing just a bit. “Well, it’s time someone made an honest man of me,” he said.

“What?” she asked, then scoffed. “Very funny, this is serious. I’d like to dispatch a courier asking the banns of House Trevelyan to align themselves with us. What are your thoughts? Should we approach your family for their formal support of the Inquisition. What are your thoughts?”

“Assuming they haven’t sided with the Chantry’s denouncement of the Inquisition, then absolutely,” he replied. “My parents are on a first-name basis with half the priests in Ostwick and we have a dozen cousins in the Chantry. When they hear Harriet’s been touched by Andraste, you’ll have to stop them from giving money. And considering there are already four of us who are part of the main family and the Inquisition, I would say they would be eager to support the Inquisition.”

“Excellent,” said Josephine, seeming genuinely pleased. “Orlais has noted your lineage. It’s given the Inquisition some legitimacy, although not as much as we had hoped.”

“Any particular reason?” he asked.

“You are from Ostwick,” she said diplomatically, “Many Orlesians consider the Free Marches somewhat… quaint.”

Jason laughed. “That’s a nice way to put it,” he said. “I’d call us disorganized. Orlais has a proper empire, for all the problems it has caused for them recently. Free Marchers never unite unless there’s darkspawn at our front door.”

She smiled knowingly, scribbling some notes onto her parchment. “No one doubts their ferocity when it happens. Free Marchers are renowned for their tenacity. Speaking of which, I should thank you for your patience with the simple quarters. The accommodations in Haven are surely rough for someone of your birth.”

Jason noted that she was not only of noble birth, but also from Antiva. Haven was about as far from what she was used to as an Orlesian noble slumming with Mabari in a Ferelden hut. “This can’t be what you’re accustomed to, Ambassador,” he said with sympathy.

“One adjusts. Personally, it helps if I stay busy. It helps distract from our surroundings,” she said with forced optimism. “And the cold. And the wildlife. And the lack of civilization for miles around.” She sighed with exasperation. “Why anyone lived here before we found Andraste’s ashes, I cannot imagine.”

Jason understood the sentiment, even considering that he had been on the run from the Templars for the past couple years and had spent little time in the sprawling metropolitan urban centers that he largely preferred. 

“Haven is a freezing dump,” he said, “I can’t wait until we find a better place to live than a bunch of hovels in the middle of an ice storm. There are only so many furs around to keep warm here.”

Josephine’s face broke out into such a relieved smile that she actually put down her pen to throw her hands up into the air with exuberance. “It’s such a relief to hear someone else say that out loud!” she declared. “If it were up to me, the moment it was safe, we would relocate to Val Royeaux. Our enemies know where we are, we might live somewhere more civilized when they come.”

Jason laughed loudly. “Well, if that does happen, my sisters and cousin will be just as relieved, if only because they could go shopping in one of the bazaars whenever they wanted.”

“Another benefit to living in the city, surely,” she said matter-of-factly. “I cannot remember the last time Leliana and I were able to escape our duties long enough to go on a shopping spree of our own.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Well you missed your chance,” he said. “Harriet, Katheryn, and Mormont insisted that we have one before we left Val Royeaux.”

The look of outrage, jealousy, and incredulity on Josephine’s face was one that he wished he could take with him. “Much as I would have loved to accompany you on this outing,” she said in carefully measured tones, “There is really no way that I could have left here long enough to make the journey.”

“Well speaking from my personal experience,” Jason said, “I’m glad you weren’t there. Garos, Cassandra, and I already had enough to carry out of the city without another person adding to our load. I thought the horse would collapse under all that weight by the time we left.”

This clearly didn’t help, as Josephine’s face was still green with envy. As much as he probably should have tried to make amends, he found himself smiling down at her. She was a beautiful woman, stunning and fierce when provoked. Her dark curls framed her tanned face so as to make her passionate indignation fierce and her diplomatic serenity enticing. He decided that he should remember that teasing her elicited such a reaction so that he could do it again later.  
************************************************************************************************************

Katheryn carried the scarf that she had been working on for the past couple weeks with her to the tent. She clutched the scarf nervously, as she approached the fearsome woman that she had meant to give it to. The spymaster, the one they called Sister Nightingale. She had awoken once to find her sitting next to her bed when she had been recovering from the battle at the Temple. Leliana had been strumming away softly on a lute and singing a song Katheryn didn’t recognize. Just as she had been about to thank her and ask why she was there, she had fallen asleep once again. When she awoke again, Leliana was nowhere to be found, but Mormont had confirmed that she had come to watch over her while he got some rest. She remembered, even if Leliana had never mentioned it. Ever since, she had wanted to repay that simple kindness somehow.

As she entered the tent she found Leliana kneeling in prayer, reciting the Chant from the Canticle of Benedictions. Katheryn, not knowing what to do but no wanting to interrupt her knelt as well and began her own chant, taking out a piece of parchment. The seal had been broken long ago and her mother’s elegant handwriting still showed on the aged surface. Katheryn had held onto this ever since she had received it and it had become one of her favorite parts of the Chant of Light.

_O Maker, hear my cry:_  
_Guide me through the blackest nights._  
_Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked._  
_Make me to rest in the warmest places._

Leliana turned to her, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Katheryn had a moment of panic, wondering if she had been wrong to intrude and join her. She probably wanted some privacy to sing the Chant on her own. Maker knew that as the Inquisition’s spymaster she probably got very little time to herself as it was.

“I’m sorry, I—” she began.

“No! No, I do not mind, I was just surprised, that’s all,” Leliana said hastily as she stood. “Transfigurations is one of my favorite parts of the Chant, that’s all.”

Katheryn stood hesitantly and held out the bit of parchment she carried with her. “Before we left Ostwick with the apprentices,” she began, “My mother gave each of us, her children and Mormont, a bit of parchment. Each of them holds a verse from the Chant that she thought would help us a bit on our journey.”

“Your mother sounds like a pious woman, and a loving one, to care so much about her mage children,” Leliana said softly.

“She is,” Katheryn replied, her eyes beginning to tear up thinking of the family she hadn’t seen since this mess had begun. “Anyway, I came to give you this.” She held out the intricately patterned scarf to Leliana. It was made with a deep blue yarn that Katheryn had happened to find at Seggrit’s stand, and she had haggled relentlessly to get him to come down on the price. 

“A scarf?” Leliana asked, a bit confused. Katheryn flushed. For all her advice and her wisdom when it came to other people’s relationships, she never failed to become flustered when she talked to people she liked. “It’s—you know, to thank you for helping keep watch when I was recovering.” She suddenly felt like hiding her face in said scarf and running away like she was a hapless apprentice crushing on one of the Templars. Maker’s breath, she hadn’t been this bad in years. “And it’s cold here in Haven, so I thought it would be useful…”

Leliana seemed so surprised that she actually genuinely smiled at the gesture. “Thank you,” she said, pulling her hood down so she could wrap the scarf around her neck. “It’s lovely, I’ve never seen this pattern before.”

Katheryn brightened at the praise. “It’s one I came up with in my spare time,” she said. “There’s not much to do on the road, so I filled in any time I could by thinking of new patterns to try. I’m so glad this one turned out well.”

Leliana smiled again. “Thank you, Katheryn. It’s a very thoughtful gift.” Then she did something that surprised the both of them. Leliana, the ruthless spymaster of the Inquisition, master of the Great Game, and hero of the Fifth Blight embraced Katheryn. Katheryn returned the embrace eagerly, and when they separated she was blushing so much that she was sure her face resembled a tomato. Leliana lightly laughed at the sight and Katheryn made some excuse and fled before she embarrassed herself even further.


	23. Chapter 23

Jason was tasked with searching for the only Ferelden Grey Warden Leliana’s agents had been able to find so far. Katheryn had elected to join him, her face turning an unusually red shade when he mentioned that Leliana was the one who had given him the task. He attributed it to the fact that it was very cold and windy in Haven and she had misplaced the blue scarf she had been working on. She had been strangely tight lipped about the scarf, too. He figured she was simply doing something familiar to take her mind off of what happened at the Conclave.

Cassandra and Sera had volunteered to accompany them to the Hinterlands while Harriet, Mormont, Vivienne, and Solas journeyed to the Storm Coast to look into hiring a mercenary band to assist the Inquisition. Jason found that he hated the Hinterlands. It wasn’t the excess of foliage, or the seemingly unending number of Templars and apostates who decided to attack them, or the bandits that had also decided to prey upon unsuspecting travelers, or even the demons that poured out of literally every rift that they couldn’t close because there was only ONE Harriet Trevelyan! It was the bears. There were far too many bears. And it wasn’t simply that there were too many bears. It was that these bears seemed supernaturally powerful as they descended down upon them from out of nowhere. By the time they had reached the lake where Leliana’s agents had seen Blackwall, they had encountered so many bears that Jason was sure that their pack mule would kick the next person that tried to put a pelt on its back.

As they neared the Warden, Jason could make out scattered orders like a military commander giving orders to recruits. He began to wonder just what exactly a Warden was doing out here if he wasn’t fighting darkspawn. 

“Remember how to carry your shields,” he said. “You’re not hiding, you’re holding. Otherwise it’s useless.”

Jason approached and called out to the Warden. The man turned, looking shocked that someone would be here for him. “You’re not—How do you know my name? Who sent—” The Warden suddenly lifted his shield to block an arrow that had been intended for Jason’s head. Just as Jason was beginning to process that this man had just saved his life, bandits began shouting. Blackwall turned back to address him. “That’s it,” he said shortly. “Help or get out. We’re dealing with these idiots first. Conscripts, here they come.” 

The battle was over almost as quickly as it had begun. These bandits weren’t exactly well trained. Jason cast his barrier over himself and the conscripts and sent a fireball towards the bandits. Cassandra appeared and charged them, taking advantage of the fact that they were down. Katheryn and Sera targeted the archers, knocking them down with stonefist spells and explosive arrows respectively. The bandits fell in short order, with Blackwall bringing his greatsword up through the last one himself. 

Jason watched as he shoved the blade into the ground and walked over to stare out across the lake. He couldn’t make out what he said from where he was. Blackwall stood and dismissed his “conscripts” and sent them home before he addressed Jason. “You’re no farmer, how do you know my name? Who are you?”

“I know your name because I’m an agent of the Inquisition,” Jason said. “I’m investigating whether the disappearance of the Wardens has anything to do with the Divine’s death.”

“Maker’s balls,” he swore, “the Wardens and the Divine, that can’t—no you’re asking so you don’t really know. First off, I didn’t know that they disappeared, but we do that, right? No more Blight, job done, the Wardens are the first thing forgotten. But one thing I’ll tell you, no Warden killed the Divine. Our purpose isn’t political.”

“I’m not here to accuse, not yet. I just need information,” Jason reassured him. “You’re the only Warden I’ve found. Where are the rest of you?”

“I haven’t seen any Wardens for months,” he replied, “I travel alone, recruiting. Not much interest because the Archdemon’s a decade dead and there’s no need to conscript because there’s no Blight coming. Treaties give Wardens the right to take what we need, who we need. These idiots forced this fight, so I ‘conscripted’ their victims.

“They had to do what I said, so I told them to stand. Next time they won’t need me. Grey Wardens can inspire, make you better than you think you are.”

Fascinating, Jason thought, though it’s not really what I’m looking for. “Do you have any idea where the other Wardens might have gone?”

“Maybe they returned to our stronghold at Weisshaupt. That’s in the Anderfels, a long way north,” he replied, though it was clear that this was a guess. “I don’t really know. Can’t imagine why they’d all disappear at once, let alone where they’d disappear to.”

That made about as much sense as anything these days. “Why haven’t you gone missing like the rest of them?”

“Well maybe I was going to,” he answered, “Or maybe there’s a new directive and a runner got lost or something. My job was to recruit on my own. Planned to stay that way for months, years.”

Jason decided to let it be, it was clear that Blackwall didn’t know anything useful. “It’s been a pleasure, Warden Blackwall,” he said, “But unfortunately you’ve given me more questions than answers.” He began to walk away, there was really nothing to do but do some things to help the refugees before they returned to Haven.

“Inquisition, agent did you say?” Blackwall called after him, “Hold a moment.” Jason returned his attention to the Warden. “The Divine is dead and the sky is torn. Events like these, thinking we’re absent is almost as bad as thinking we’re involved. If you’re trying to put things right, maybe you need a Warden. Maybe you need me.”

Huh, Jason thought, it’s not every day a Warden offers you their help. “The Inquisition needs all the help it can get,” he said, “but what can one Warden do?”

Blackwall smiled. “Save the fucking world, if pressed. Look, maybe fighting demons from the sky isn’t something I’m practiced at, but show me someone who is. And there are the Grey Warden treaties. Maybe this isn’t a Blight, but it’s bloody well a disaster. Some will honor them. Being a Warden will mean something to a lot of people.”

It was something at least. If Josephine could phrase it in the right way, who knows what people would be willing to give to the Inquisition? And if nothing else, Blackwall seemed like a capable enough fighter. “Warden Blackwall, I hereby accept your offer on behalf of the Inquisition.”

Blackwall smiled again. “Good to hear. We both need to know what’s going on and perhaps I’ve been keeping to myself for too long. This Warden walks with the Inquisition.”  
***************************************************************************************************************************

Harriet immediately started to regret her life choices when they began nearing the Storm Coast. It had been raining for two straight days and they hadn’t even gotten to the actual coast yet to meet the Bull’s Chargers. Two straight days of putting up tents in the torrential downpour so strong that getting a fire going for any length of time proved to be an exercise in futility. The only plus side was that Solas apparently knew a spell for repelling water from falling on you. The down side was that he couldn’t keep it going perpetually. He usually used it when they were trying to set their tents up. 

They arrived to a skirmish between some Tevinter soldiers and the mercenary company. Harriet debated simply watching them to see what they could do, but all this rain had her itching to hit something and there were so many targets down there. She practically ran down the path to the battle and began shooting Tevinter soldiers willy nilly, not even stopping to notice what the rest of her party were doing.

As the last foe fell, the Qunari who could only be the Iron Bull called for his mercenaries to stand down. “Krem! How’d we do?” he shouted.

“Five or six wounded, chief,” his lieutenant shouted back. “No dead.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Iron Bull said, “Let the throat cutters finish up then break out the casks!”

Whoever this guy was, he enjoyed his work, Harriet decided. It made sense, too, to enjoy something you were good at and his mercenaries were definitely good at their jobs. Iron Bull turned to Harriet. “So you’re with the Inquisition, huh? Glad you could make it. Come on have a seat, drinks are coming.”

Harriet was definitely sure she had misheard, though she wouldn’t say no to some drinks, especially in this weather. “You want to have drinks in the aftermath of a battle?” she asked.

He laughed jovially. “Better than in the middle of a battle! This is Golden Scythe 4:90 Black. You spill, it you kill all the grass.” He walked over to sit down on a rock and waited for a report from his lieutenant. When Krem arrived he said, “I believe you remember Cremisius Aclassi, my lieutenant.”

“Good to see you again,” he said. “The throat cutters are done, chief.”

“Already?” Iron Bull asked. “Have them check again. Don’t want any of those Tevinter bastards getting away. No offense, Krem.”

“None taken,” Krem said, sliding into what seemed like regular banter between the two of them. “At least a bastard knows who his mother was. Puts him one up on you Qunari, right?”

“So, you’ve seen us fight. We’re expensive, but we’re worth it.” He chuckled proudly to himself. “And I’m sure the Inquisition can afford us.”

Harriet wasn’t sure she wanted to be the one who footed the bill to keep these people with the Inquisition if they were as good as she had seen. “How much is this going to cost me, exactly?”

Iron Bull didn’t bat an… well… his eye. “Wouldn’t cost you anything personally. Unless you wanna buy drinks later.

“Your ambassador… what’s her name? Josephine. We go through her and get the payments set up. Gold will take care of itself. Don’t worry about that. All that matters is we’re worth it.”

Well that was something. “The Chargers seem like an excellent company, in that case,” she said.

“They are. But you aren’t just getting the boys. You’re getting me. You need a front line bodyguard. I’m your man,” he said standing up, a wall of gray muscle rippling with each movement. “Whatever it is. Demons? Dragons? The bigger the better. And there’s another thing. Might be useful, might piss you off. Ever heard of the Ben-Hassrath?”

“They’re a Qunari organization, right? The equivalent of their guards and city watch?” Harriet asked, “The Chantry doesn’t really focus much on the Qunari unless they’re invading someone.”

“True enough,” Iron Bull said. “I’d go closer to spies, but yeah that’s them. Or well… us. The Ben-Hassrath are concerned about the Breach. Magic out of control like that could cause trouble everywhere. I’ve been ordered to join the Inquisition, get close to the people in charge, and send reports about what’s happening. But I also get reports from Ben-Hassrath agents all over Orlais. You sign me on, I’ll share them with your people.”

Harriet was just a little bit shocked. Accepting a Qunari spy willingly into the Inquisition sounded like just about the dumbest thing anyone could possibly do. And yet, the way the Iron Bull presented it, it also made sense.

“You’re a Qunari spy and you just… told me?” she demanded.

“Whatever happened at that Conclave thing, it’s bad,” he countered. “Someone needs to get that Breach closed. So whatever I am, I’m on your side.”

“You still could have hidden what you are,” she pointed out.

“From something called the Inquisition?” he asked. “I would’ve been tipped sooner or later. Better you hear it right up front from me.”

“Fair enough, I suppose,” Harriet said. “What would you send home in these reports of yours?”

“Enough to keep my superiors happy, nothing that will compromise your operations,” Iron Bull answered. “The Qunari want to know if they need to launch an invasion to keep the whole damn world from falling apart. You let send word of what you’re doing, it’ll put some minds at ease. That’s good for everyone.”

“That’s encouraging, if true,” Harriet said, “What’s in these Ben-Hassrath reports you’re offering to share?”

“Enemy movements, suspicious activity, intriguing gossip. It’s a bit of everything,” he said. “Alone, they’re not much, but if your spymaster is worth a damn she’ll put ‘em to good use.”

Hang on. “She?” Harriet asked.

Iron Bull chuckled. “I did a little research. Plus I’ve always had a weakness for redheads.”

It sounded like a good offer, but Harriet still didn’t fully trust this Qunari spy. At least, not enough to give him full reign to forward their actions to the Qunari. “You run your reports past Leliana before you send them,” she said. “You send nothing she doesn’t approve. If this turns out to be a trick or you turn on us, Cassandra will eat you alive.”

He had apparently been expecting as much. “Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he replied. “Krem! Tell the boys to finish drinking on the road. The Chargers just got hired!”

Krem apparently thought the meeting would take a lot longer than it did. “What about the casks, chief? We just opened them up! With axes.”

“Find some way to seal ‘em,” Iron Bull ordered. “You’re Tevinter, right? Try blood magic.” He turned to look at Harriet. “We’ll meet you back at Haven.”


	24. Chapter 24

It was nearly dark by the time Harriet’s party returned to Haven. All in all, she was simply glad that it wasn’t raining, even if being in the mountains made it much colder than it was in the lowlands. She immediately went to the tavern to see about getting some food. Much as she was good at living off the land, she was a bit tired of having to hunt for whatever food she ate. 

The Maker, it seemed, had a sense of humor. On her way to the tavern she ran into Cullen, who had apparently decided that he had had enough of wearing his armor for the day and was instead dressed in a simple tunic with a heavy fur coat. Harriet did a double take at the sight of him.

“You’re out of your armor!” she exclaimed. “I’m shocked. Did the Breach decide to close itself while I was gone?”

“I—well, I can’t wear armor all the time,” Cullen stammered.

“Really?” Harriet asked. “That hasn’t stopped you so far. Does this count as a breach in decorum, commander? To be seen with the Herald of Andraste without your formal armor on?”

“Only if you keep calling me, ‘Commander,’ my lady,” he grinned.

Harriet gasped in mock surprise. “A joke! The world truly is ending.” 

They laughed in the middle of Haven, earning some scandalized looks from soldiers and scouts who didn’t dare approach Cullen even if he was dressed down. When they stopped, Cullen asked, “So you’re back from the Storm Coast. Are you… going anywhere in particular?”

Harriet nodded. “I’m going to the tavern to get something in the way of food. Would you like to accompany me?”

“Yes,” he said quickly, “I mean—if you want me to… lead the way.”

Harriet chuckled to herself. It was almost too easy to tease this man, provided she could avoid blushing herself. When they had reached the tavern and gotten their food Cullen asked. “So how was the Storm Coast?”

Harriet waited until she finished chewing on her bit of potato. “Wet,” she said shortly. “It didn’t stop raining the entire time we were there. These Bull’s Chargers and Blades of Hessarian had better be worth all the trouble we went through to get them.”

Cullen chuckled. “It couldn’t have been that bad,” he said, “Sure the Coast is a bit damper than the rest of Ferelden, but it couldn’t have rained the whole time.”

Harriet gave him a deadpanned look. “No, it literally never stopped raining,” she said. “The best part about going south after we were done was that we could finally sleep on some dry ground and get a fire going. I’m pretty sure at least one of us is going to develop a cold.”

They ate in silence for a while before Harriet decided to change the subject. “So why did you become a Templar?” she asked.

“At the time I could think of no better calling than to protect those in need,” he said, “I used to beg the Templars at our local Chantry to teach me. At first they merely humored me, but I must have shown some promise or at least a willingness to learn. The Knight-Captain spoke to my parents on my behalf. They agreed to send me for training. I was thirteen when I left home.”

Harriet swallowed. “I would say that thirteen is young to leave home, but I was around that age when Cassandra recruited me into the Seekers of Truth.”

“How did Cassandra find you, anyway?” Cullen asked. “From what I’ve gathered, joining the Seekers isn’t something one can just decide to do.”

Harriet chuckled. “No, usually Seekers have to recruit our members ourselves. And since there aren’t many Seekers compared to the number of Templars, it’s pretty rare to be recruited. I’m told that Cassandra found me because the priests at the Templar garrison where my family had sent me for training thought I showed promise.”

Cullen returned to his story, “I didn’t take on full responsibilities until I was eighteen. The Order sees you trained and educated first, as I’m sure you know.”

“What about your family? Did you miss them?”

“Of course,” Cullen replied. “Didn’t you miss yours when you left Ostwick for Val Royeaux? We learned to look out for one another. What about you? I can’t imagine there were many Seeker recruits under Cassandra’s wing.”

Harriet laughed. “No, I think I was the only one Cassandra could have handled without punching them,” she remembered fondly. “It helped that Cassandra and many of the priests there had also left their families behind and kind of knew what I was going through.”

“That’s something,” Cullen replied.

“What was a typical day for a Templar?” she asked.

Cullen chuckled. “I was stationed at the Kirkwall Circle after the Fifth Blight right before it fell apart. Nothing was typical.”

“Oh. Shit.” Harriet said eloquently. “Before that then.”

“As you know, certain rituals require a full guard, like a mage’s Harrowing. I’ve attended a few. Most of the time Templars merely maintain a presence—on patrol or in the Circle, ready to respond if needed. Mages pretended to ignore that presence, but they watched us just as closely.”

“Do mages and Templars not speak to each other?” Harriet asked, a bit confused.

“Templars are expected to maintain a certain distance from their charges,” Cullen replied. “If a mage is possessed or uses blood magic, you must act quickly, without hesitation. Your judgment cannot be clouded. Of course, ignoring each other does nothing to foster understanding. You’re a Seeker, surely you know most of this?”

Harriet laughed ruefully, “Yes, I’m a Seeker, and whenever Seekers showed up at a Circle, Templars would panic. It was fun the first couple times, but after a while it was frustrating to have Templars constantly afraid that I would find them guilty of some kind of corruption. Still, I sometimes wonder if anything would have been different if I had been one of the ones sent to the Kirkwall Circle to investigate the claims about Meredith.”

Cullen seemed sympathetic. “We’ll never know. The Seekers who did come knew everything we could tell them,” he said, “and they came to their own conclusions. Short of removing Meredith from power directly, I suspect there was little they could have done.”

“Do Templars take vows of any sort? Like, I swear to watch all the mages—or something?”

“There’s a vigil first, maybe similar to the one Seekers have to go through, from what I’ve heard,” he said.

“Not likely,” Harriet replied. “Most people can’t devote an entire year to fasting and prayer alone while waiting to receive their powers.”

Cullen raised his eyebrows. “No, I doubt I would have been able to accomplish something like that, considering I nearly fell asleep while I stared at a candle reciting the Chant of Transfirgurations. Anyway, after the vigil, Templars dedicate their lives to one of service. That’s when they receive their first philter, the draught of lyrium and its power. As Templars, we are not to seek wealth or acknowledgment. Our lives belong to the Maker and the path we have chosen.”

Then Harriet came to the real question she had been working up the courage to ask. “A life of service and sacrifice… are Templars expected to give up… physical temptations?”

Cullen sputtered gracefully and took a long, fortifying drink of ale. “Physical? Why?” he asked, clearing his throat. “Why would you… It’s not expected. Templars can marry—although there are rules around it, and the Order must grant permission… Some may choose to give up more to prove their devotion, but it’s, umm… not required.” By this point his face was turning a lovely shade of rosy red.

Harriet was having too much fun making Cullen uncomfortable. “What about you?”

Cullen’s face turned even more red, like a beet or a tomato. “Me?” he stammered. “I… um… no, I’ve taken no such vows. Maker’s Breath, can we speak of something else?”

She was cruel. There was no other word for it. There was no way she would spend eternity at the Maker’s bosom. Andraste wouldn’t let her. “That’s all I wanted to know. Thank you,” she said smiling.  
******************************************************************************************

Katheryn was sitting in her chair, her shawl wrapped around her shoulders as she stared up at the night sky. This was something of a ritual for her. After everyone had gone to sleep, she would take first watch and stare up at the stars overhead and find the constellation to pass the time. Haven’s night sky was especially beautiful. On a clear night she could see some kind of cloudy pinkish purple nebula stretching across the sky. It was beautiful and calming, to know that in the midst of all this chaos, the night sky was still the same. Still peaceful, untouched by war and untainted by anything mortals could concoct. 

She was startled out of her musings by the soft crunching of footsteps on the snow. She turned and saw Leliana approaching her, still wearing the scarf she had given her.

“I apologize if I alarmed you,” she said. “You reminded me of a friend of mine, so I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Do you have many friends who sit in chairs like they’re little old ladies staring up at the sky as they knit?”

“You’re not knitting, but no. Just the one,” Leliana sighed. “Or rather, I did. Wynne died in the Battle of the White Spire.”

_Ah, the Archmage who accompanied the Hero of Ferelden during the Fifth Blight._

“I had heard she had died in the chaos,” Katheryn said. “I’m sorry for your loss. I would have liked to have met her. She sounds like she was a quite a woman.”

“She was always kind to me,” Leliana said. “In many ways, I think she was better person than me. I always thought she deserved better than living in a tower surrounded by Templars.”

Katheryn was silent for a time. “The first time I left the tower after my Harrowing,” she said, “I returned home to my family. I hoped maybe my life could go back to normal after I passed my Harrowing, that we could go on as if nothing had ever changed.”

“What happened?” Leliana asked.

“My great-aunt Lucille threw one of her summer balls. Nobility from across the Free Marches attended, even a few families from Antiva, Ferelden, and other countries were there. During the festivities, I was dancing with one of the young lords and Lucille called out for the dancing to stop and asked me entertain them with some spells. They wanted me to juggle colored fire, or make lightning dance around the room, or chill their drinks. I was too young to do anything and I froze, every eye on me and I couldn’t do anything.

My great-aunt declared that if I would not provide entertainment for them, that I should remove myself until the party was concluded. I was humiliated and crushed and after everyone knew that I was a mage, they all avoided me like I had the plague.”

Leliana drew her into an embrace. “I don’t know what to say,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.” Katheryn discovered to her surprise that tears were streaming down her face, freezing on her cheeks. She took out a handkerchief and wiped her face off. Leliana still held her. It made her feel a little better and she leaned into her embrace.

“After that, I never went to another party,” she said. “I returned to the Circle and only left when the family insisted that I attend one of their outings to the opera. People talk about how horrible the Circle is, how we’re forced to be there. But after that party, when my parents did nothing to oppose Lucille, I never wanted anything to do with the outside world.”

Leliana gave her one last squeeze and released her. “Someday,” she declared, “I shall take you to a ball and it shall be the most wonderful thing you have ever experienced and if anyone offends you, I shall have them killed or publically ruined.”

That was probably the sweetest thing Katheryn had ever heard anyone tell her. Still she was suddenly feeling ever so slightly flirtatious. “I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve experienced some pretty spectacular things.”

“Oh?” Leliana asked. “Such as?”

“There was once this priest in the Ostwick Circle who was pretty wicked with her tongue, if you know what I mean,” Katheryn said. “You would not believe how many confessions I had in the Chantry chapel in the Circle at one point in time.”

Leliana’s smile was pretty wicked itself. “Perhaps one day you can give me a demonstration?” she asked as she leaned down to whisper into her ear. “And perhaps I will teach you a few things as well.”

Katheryn was suddenly feeling very warm and crossed her legs. She silently cursed her fair complexion. Leliana laughed as she blushed and Katheryn put on what she hoped was a scowl. She meant to look cross. “Leliana,” she said, “you’re evil. I don’t like you, you’re a bad person.”

“And you’re pretty when you’re pouting,” she replied as she walked away, Katheryn’s indignant shouts trailing after her.  
******************************************************************************************

“You did not!” Garos nearly shouted. “Girl, spill! I want the juicy details.”

“There aren’t any juicy details, I’m sure,” Harriet replied as she looked at Katheryn. “But seriously? You and Leliana? I couldn’t have seen this coming in a million years”

Katheryn blushed, part of her immediately regretting choosing to tell these two. Garos was incorrigible and unsubtle while Harriet would try to protect her from heartbreak. “There’s nothing official,” she said. “Just some harmless flirting at this point.”

“Mm-hmm” Garos said. “That’s some pretty steamy flirting you got going on there. And she’s wearing your scarf. What next? She’ll offer to assassinate one of your enemies? Or maybe she’ll start simple and give you flowers, first.”

“Be reasonable, Garos,” Harriet said. “Leliana’s a master of the Game. If there’s one thing she’s good at, besides spying, it’s the art of seduction. I’m sure she’ll leave the offer of assassination for later.”

Katheryn scowled at the two of them. This was definitely a mistake. If she hadn’t been so loud when Leliana left, there would never have been anything for them to ask her about. She didn’t care that she had spent literally almost every single moment with these two people since the Circles rebelled, that they had grown to rely on each other, or that they had made a point to take care of each other, she regretted ever meeting these people. Especially Garos. He should have been transferred to another Circle as soon as he arrived.

“Darling, you should really stop,” Garos told her. “Your face really doesn’t lend itself to scowling; you look like your pouting.”

“Well apparently Leliana thinks she’s pretty, so maybe she should do it more often,” Harriet grinned.

Katheryn pointedly hid her face in her mug, seeing as this was really the only reliable way to get them to stop talking about her face. Thankfully, Jason, her eternally oblivious brother/former mentee, decided at that moment to join them. Jason would know nothing at all and would miss any and all hints that they had been discussing something important. He sat down with his bowl of porridge. 

“Leliana told me to tell you,” he said, looking at Harriet, “that we’re having a war council meeting today at 10:00. We’re apparently going to discuss our next steps.” Then he turned to Katheryn and said, “She also asked me to tell you that she hopes that last night did not leave you overly distressed. She refused to elaborate. I assume you know what she’s talking about.”

If it was possible for Katheryn’s face to become any redder than it was already, she would have fled in shame. As it was, she attempted to bury her face even further into her mug. Jason, never one to leave anything well enough alone, asked, “Did I miss something, or have you been drinking? And isn't it a bit early for that?”

“I haven’t been drinking,” she said shortly. "And it is a bit early. But I may have to start. It seems like it’s going to be one of those days.”

Before Jason could respond, Harriet’s and Garos’ hands lashed out to cover his mouth, leaving Jason to gesture helplessly with his spoon towards his still-steaming bowl of porridge. 

“Shut up, Jason,” Garos said, “Shit’s not that good anyway.”

Harriet turned back towards Katheryn. “You’re not getting away with this so easily,” she hissed. “We need to come up with a plan.”

“Please don’t,” Katheryn begged pitifully, knowing full well that if Garos and Harriet joined forces against her, only the Maker Himself could save her, and even that was a tossup. 

Garos thought about this for a minute. “Maybe we should leave her be and talk to Leliana,” he said. This earned him an incredulous stare from Harriet and a baffled one from Jason.

“Do you have a death wish?” she demanded. “Talking to Leliana about this will result in our imminent demise while we sleep. You she can get whenever, but I would only be safe until the Breach was closed. No, there’s no way we can talk to Leliana.”

“Okay, what about Cassandra?” he asked. “They’ve known each other for years, maybe she can help.”

Harriet shook her head furiously. Katheryn opened her mouth to speak only for Garos to reach across the table to put his other hand over it. She glared at him, which was infinitely easier to do when no one could see her mouth ruining the effect.

“I’ve known Leliana for years,” Harriet said, “and I would never even think about it. Cassandra might get away with it because she could punch a bear and it would apologize for offending her. Leliana’s worse than a bear, though. She’s Orlesian.”

Garos hummed quietly to himself. “Good point,” he said. Then his face brightened. “I know!” he exclaimed. “We should talk to Josephine!” 

Harriet’s face lit up in epiphany. “Now that’s a brilliant idea!” she declared. “We can trust Josephine to be discreet about this.”

Jason began to make mumbling noises from behind their hands, probably demanding to know what the hell they were talking about. He moved his chair back, reclaimed his bowl and made a hasty retreat to another table on the other side of the tavern with Sera. Katheryn gave up protesting and merely tried to tune out Harriet’s and Garos’ plotting as best she could. Maybe she could raid Iron Bull’s liquor stores later.  
******************************************************************************************

Harriet stood in the war room, staring down at the map in front of her. One of their symbols indicating where they would go next stood over where Redcliffe was and her advisors gathered around the table. 

“If we’re set on allying with the mage rebellion,” Josephine said, “then we should send a delegation to meet with Grand Enchanter Fiona as soon as possible.”

“The mages took the initiative to extend us an invitation,” Jason said, “If nothing else, we should see what they want to discuss.”

“No doubt what they’ve always wanted,” Cassandra said dryly, “Support for their cause.”

Harriet turned to Cassandra. “You think this might be some kind of trap?” she asked.

Cassandra nodded. “If some among the rebel mages were responsible for what happened at the Conclave…”

“The same could be said of the Templars,” Josephine interjected. 

Leliana cleared her throat. “The fact remains that we have received a direct invitation from the leader of the mages to go to Redcliffe and discuss with them the possibility of an alliance. More than what we’ve heard from the Templars.”

“We should meet with the mages,” Jason said, “Even if we can’t come to an agreement, which seems unlikely considering current events, they’re our best chance of closing the Breach.”

Cullen frowned, clearly holding back his dissenting opinion. “Obviously the Herald of Andraste needs to go,” he said, “but who else do we send with this delegation?”

Josephine began scribbling notes onto her board. “What about Vivienne?” she proposed. “Even if she doesn’t agree with the rebellion, she’s still a First Enchanter of the Circle. Her status would carry a significant amount of weight.”

Harriet nodded. “We should probably leave Mormont here,” she said. “Bringing a Templar might give some of them the wrong idea about the Inquisition.”

And that was how Harriet, Jason, Garos, Vivienne, and Cassandra ended up at the Redcliffe gates, confronted with one of the most bizarre Fade Rifts yet. There were Cassandra and Harriet discovered regions where their movements were slowed drastically, while Garos had Fade Stepped to an area where all of his movements were quickened. This made battling the shades that emerged from the rift particularly troublesome. Jason would move up to one that seemed vulnerable, prepared to summon his spectral blade, when all of a sudden his movements would become sluggish. He was still able to cast his spells as usual, however. Vivienne found a place where everything moved normally and sent her lightning arcing across the battlefield while her allies stuck in slow moving areas escaped.

As soon as Jason started moving normally he sent flashfire towards one of the shades going after Vivienne. The demon panicked and Jason thanked the Maker that whatever emerged from the rifts was still susceptible to the fear that his fire induced in his enemies. 

The Maker had a horrible sense of humor, it seemed, since the next wave of demons featured a group of Terror demons. Which, as the name implied, were immune to being panicked or intimidated by anything mortals could throw at them. They were, however, excellent at unnerving their foes and Jason had decided that these were his least favorite variety to fight.

At last, Harriet was able to close the rift and the demons were eliminated. As the group took their time to catch their breath she asked, “What was that?”

Cassandra, never one to appear even remotely winded, replied, “We don’t know what these rifts can do. That one seemed to… alter the time around it.”

Harriet frowned as she looked toward the still closed gate to Redcliffe village. “Something’s not right here,” she said. “Stay on your guard.”

The people behind the gate raised it, where the five of them were met by one of Leliana’s scouts. “We spread the word that the Inquisition was coming,” the man said, “but you should know that no one here was expecting us.”

Jason was taken aback. He turned to stare at Harriet and saw an expression that he assumed mimicked his own. “No one?” she asked in disbelief. “Not even Grand Enchanter Fiona?”

“If she was, she didn’t tell anyone,” that was all he could tell them before an emissary approached them. He was a young elf, who looked like he had barely passed his Harrowing before the mages rebelled, if he had even had the chance to do so.

“Agents of the Inquisition,” he said in greeting, “I apologize. Magister Alexius is in charge now, but hasn’t yet arrived.”

“‘Magister Alexius’?” Harriet repeated. “What’s a Tevinter Magister doing here with the mage rebellion?”

“The Grand Enchanter agreed to an alliance with the Tevinter Imperium, one that the Magister offered us shortly after the Conclave was destroyed,” the mage replied. “The former Grand Enchanter can tell you more in the meantime.” The young mage departed, leaving the delegation utterly baffled by what was going on.

They neared the tavern in the middle of the village overlooking Lake Calenhad shortly after. Everywhere in the village, mages stopped them to talk about this “alliance” with Tevinter. Most were frightened of what this meant for them, considering the stories they had heard about the Tevinter mages practicing blood magic and summoning demons to do their bidding. Some of them begged the Inquisition to get Fiona to renege on the alliance in favor of the Inquisition and send the Tevinter mages packing back to their own country. Few seemed to be in favor of the alliance and those generally expressed distrust towards the Inquisition given its supposed ties to the Chantry. There was one Tranquil mage who told them that this Magister Alexius had declared that all Tranquil mages must leave and was granted a position with the Inquisition due to his apparent alchemical abilities.

As they entered the tavern, they noticed that it was almost completely empty, save for the Grand Enchanter and some other mages that accompanied her. “Welcome, agents of the Inquisition,” she greeted them. “First Enchanter Vivienne.”

“My dear Fiona,” she replied, “it’s been so long since we last spoke. You look dreadful! Are you sleeping well?”

Even considering how oblivious Jason was, he could tell when someone was being falsely complementary or sweet. Still, he didn’t expect anything else. Vivienne was a member of the Orlesian Court. Trickery and false flattery probably came second nature to her.

Fiona didn’t take the bait. “What has brought you to Redcliffe?”

Harriet was quiet for a moment before she answered. “Is this some kind of test?” she asked. “We’re here because your invitation back in Val Royeaux.”

“You must be mistaken,” Fiona replied. Now Jason was well and truly confused. “I haven’t been to Val Royeaux since before the Conclave.”

“There is no mistake,” Harriet declared. “You approached us with the offer to discuss an alliance just after the Templars left Val Royeaux.”

This seemed to be news to the Grand Enchanter. “The Templars left Val Royeaux? Where did they go?” she asked, clearly a bit frantic. “Now that you mention it, I feel strange.”

She frowned and shook her head sadly. “Whoever… or whatever brought you here, the situation has changed,” she told them. “The free mages have already… pledged themselves to the Tevinter Imperium.”

This came as something a shock. All over town they had heard of the alliance, that the mages had joined forces with the Tevinter Magister, but none of them had mentioned actually pledging themselves to the Imperium’s service. Vivienne was the first to recover. “Fiona, dear, your dementia is showing,” she said.

“An alliance with Tevinter? Do you not fear all of Thedas turning against you?” Cassandra demanded.

Jason and Garos looked at each other, neither knowing what to say to this news. The mages had always warned them against the practices of the Tevinter Imperium. For the same mages to actually ally themselves with the country that was the source of so much stories and distrust was shocking, to say the least.

Harriet looked like she was about to spit nails. “An alliance with Tevinter is a terrible mistake!” she exclaimed. “What were you thinking? That a convenient bad option is better than nothing?”

That was when Garos found his voice. “How could you think of selling us out to the Tevinter Imperium?” he demanded. “You know that they’ll never see the elven mages as equals. They’ll all end up as slaves! The rest of you will probably end up as slaves!”

Fiona, to her credit, looked as though she had already considered all of these arguments. “All hope of peace with the Templars died with Justinia,” she insisted. “This… bargain with Tevinter would not have been my first choice, but we had no choice.” Her face donned a resolute look. “We are losing this war. I needed to save as many of my people as I could, no matter what it took.”

The door to the tavern opened abruptly and a middle aged man with an entourage of Tevinter attendants entered. “Welcome my friends!” he greeted them. “I apologize for not meeting you earlier.”

“Agents of the Inquisition,” Fiona began, “allow me to present Magister Gerion Alexius.”

The Magister strode up to them and studied them all before his eyes rested on Harriet, or more specifically, the mark on her hand. “The southern mages are under my command,” he said, “and you are the survivor, yes? The one from the Fade? Interesting.”

Jason tensed and readied himself to defend his sister if need be. This man was going for charming and it came off as slimy and creepy. The sooner they retrieved the mages from this leech and got out of here, the better.

“I have some questions about what’s going on here,” Harriet said. To her credit, she bore the Magister’s unnerving scrutiny well. 

“Certainly,” he replied. “What specifically do you wish to know?”

“I’m not sure when exactly this alliance between the mages and the Imperium happened,” she said.

“When the Conclave was destroyed, these poor souls faced the brutality of the Templars, who rushed to attack them,” he said turning to Fiona. “It can only be through divine providence that I arrived when I did.”

“It was certainly… very timely,” Fiona admitted begrudgingly.

“The Grand Enchanter told me that she and the other mages were ‘indentured to a Magister,’” Harriet said.  
“Our southern brethren have no legal status in the Imperium,” the Magister explained. “After we return, they must serve for a period of ten years before gaining full rights. As their protector, I shall oversee their work for the Imperium.”

“What does the Imperium gain from taking rebel mages under its wing?” Harriet asked next.

“For the moment, the southern mages are a considerable expense,” Alexius said. “After they are properly trained, they will join our legion.”

“You said not all of my people would be military,” Fiona protested. “There are children, those not suited—”

“And one day I’m sure they will all be productive citizens of the Imperium,” Alexius interrupted. “When their debts are paid.”

Jason’s heart began pounding relentlessly. Whatever happened now, there was no way they could leave the rebel mages here to be enslaved by the Imperium. Fiona’s deal may have been stupid and desperate, but the rest of the mages didn’t deserve to pay for the price of her mistake. He only hoped that the rest of the Inquisition felt the same as he did.

“I haven’t seen any sign of Redcliffe’s arl or his men,” Harriet pointed out.

“The Arl of Redcliffe… left the village,” Alexius replied.

Garos scoffed and whispered to Jason, “That’s as polite a way as any to say, ‘we threw him out on his ass.’”

“Arl Teagan did not abandon his lands, even when they were under siege during the Fifth Blight,” Cassandra declared.

“There were… tensions growing,” Alexius said gently, “I did not want an incident.”

So the Imperium was effectively in control of Redcliffe and the rebel mages. They had positioned themselves well, from what Jason could tell, aside from the fact that Arl Teagan had likely gone to Denerim to get soldiers from the King Alistair to retake his arldom. 

“I need mages to close the Breach in the sky,” Harriet said, “I’ll take whatever you can give me.”

Alexius delivered his greasiest smile that made Jason’s skin crawl. “It is always good to meet a reasonable woman,” he said as he guided them to a table at the edge of the room.

“Felix, would you send for a scribe, please,” he called out. “Pardon my manners. My son, Felix, friends.” Felix clearly took after his mother, seeing as he had inherited none of Alexius’ creepy or greasy traits. He bowed slightly as he was introduced.

“I’m not surprised you’re here,” Alexius said. “Containing the Breach is not a feat that many could even attempt. There’s no telling how many mages might be needed for such an endeavor. Ambitious, indeed.”

Jason was hoping that at some point they would get the chance to wipe that smug grin off the bastard’s face. There was no denying that the Magister had the position of strength in this negotiation, the only question was how amenable he would be to parting with some of the mages to aid their cause and if that would even be enough.

“Well, when you’re fighting a massive hole in the sky, you can hardly afford to think small,” Harriet quipped.

“There will have to be—” whatever he was about to say was interrupted by Felix stumbling directly into Harriet and spilling wine all over her gear. “Felix!” Alexius exclaimed.

“My lady!” Felix said hastily, “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

“Are you all right?” his father asked.

“I’m fine, Father,” Felix replied.

“Come, I’ll get your powders,” his father said urgently. “Please excuse me, friends, we will have to continue this at another time. Fiona, I require your assistance back at the castle.”

“I don’t mean to trouble everyone,” Felix said, looking around the room.

Alexius turned around to bid them farewell. “I will send word to the Inquisition,” he assured them. “We will conclude this business at a later date.”

After they had all left the tavern, Harriet looked down at a note that Felix had left in her hand. “Come to the Chantry, you are in danger.”

“Should we trust this Felix?” Cassandra asked. “These Tevinters are not the sort to we should trust blindly.”

“Either way,” Jason said, “it’s our best chance to find out what’s going on here. We can’t just leave the mages to be enslaved.”

“Of course not, my dear,” Vivienne said. “Though they clearly need to be brought under proper supervision if they’re this prone to disaster.”

“Let’s head to the Chantry, then,” Harriet decided, heading toward the tavern door. “But let’s be cautious. We need to find out what’s going on.”

They left the tavern and traveled up the hill a short distance to where the Chantry was located. It was easily the largest and the oldest building in the village. As they entered to old building, they were confronted with a finely dressed mage fighting a shade. 

“Good, you’re finally here!” he shouted dramatically. “Now help me close this would you?”

The “this” he was referring to was apparently another rift with the ability to bend time around itself. It was a tedious task, but not a very difficult one given all the people present who were more than capable of taking care of themselves. This new mage apparently specialized in some of the necromancy abilities that Jason had found Garos studying all those years ago when they had first fled the tower. Whatever macabre abilities the mage knew, Jason had to admit that the ability to cause enemies to explode and leave behind spirit reflections of themselves to fight on their side were useful in a fight.

The rift was closed in short order and the mage turned to Harriet. “Fascinating,” he said. “How does that work, exactly?” He chuckled to himself as if he had told a grand joke. “You don’t even know do you? You just wiggle your fingers and boom! Rift closes!”

“Would you mind telling me who you are?” Harriet asked.

“Ah, getting ahead of myself again, I see,” the mage replied. “Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of the Tevinter Imperium. How do you do?”

“Another Tevinter,” Cassandra warned. “Be cautious with this one.”

“Suspicious friends you have here,” Dorian said, completely unperturbed. “Magister Alexius was once my mentor, so my assistance should be valuable, I expect.”

Harriet studied him for a moment. “I was expecting Felix to be here,” she admitted.

“I’m sure he’s on his way,” Dorian assured her. “He was to give you the note, then meet us here after ditching his father.”

“Is he all right?” she asked. “Alexius couldn’t jump to his side fast enough when he pretended to be faint.”

“He’s had some lingering illness for months,” he explained. “Felix is an only child, and Alexius is being a mother hen most likely.”

“If you’re from the Imperium, does that make you a Magister as well,” she asked.

“All right,” Dorian said, now slightly annoyed. “Let’s say this once. I’m a mage from Tevinter, but not a member of the Magisterium. I know you southerners use the terms interchangeably, but that only makes you sound like barbarians.”

“Stop talking like you’re waiting for applause, just tell me what’s going on,” Harriet exclaimed.

“What? There’s no applause?” Dorian said in mock disappointment. “Fine. Look you must know there’s danger. That should be obvious even without the not. Let’s start with Alexius claiming the allegiance of the mages out from under you. As if by magic, yes? Which is exactly right. To get here before the Inquisition, Alexius manipulated time itself.”

“I hope that’s less dangerous than it sounds, if that’s the case,” Harriet said.

“More,” Dorian replied dramatically.

“Right,” Garos deadpanned. “If that kind of magic was possible, the elves would have used it long ago. Do you know how much of history they would prefer to rewrite?”

“Manipulating time itself,” Vivienne said incredulously. “Many have attempted over the ages but never once succeeded.”

Dorian looked determined to persuade them of this. “The rift you closed here? You saw how it twisted time around itself, sped some things up and slowed others down? Soon there will be more like it, and they will appear further and further away from Redcliffe. The magic Alexius is using is wildly unstable and it’s unravelling the world.”

“Considering the absurdity of such a claim,” Harriet said in measured tones, “I’d like a bit more evidence than ‘Magical time control! Go with it.’”

“I know what I’m talking about,” he insisted. “I helped develop this magic. When I was still his apprentice in Tevinter, it was all pure theory. Alexius could never get it to work. What I don’t understand is why he would manipulate time to come here just to gain a few hundred lackeys.”

Felix appeared from the shadows. If it wasn’t for his illness, Jason would have assumed his silence was so that he could make a dramatic and opportune entrance. “He didn’t do it for them,” he said.

“Took you long enough!” Dorian said, smiling. “Is he getting suspicious?”

“No, but I shouldn’t have played the illness card,” Felix said. “I thought he’d be fussing over me all day. My father’s joined a cult. Tevinter supremacists. They call themselves the Venatori. And I can tell you one thing: whatever he’s done for them, he’s done it to get to you.”

“Alexius is your father,” Harriet said, “why are you working against him?”

“For the same reason Dorian works against him,” he replied. “I love my father and I love my country, but this? Cults? Time magic? What he’s doing now is madness. For his own sake, you have to stop him.”

“It would also be nice if he didn’t rip a hole in time,” Dorian added. “There’s already a hole in the sky.”

“This doesn’t explain why he would rearrange time and indenture the mage rebellion just to get to my sister,” Jason interjected.

“They’re obsessed with her,” Felix said. “But I don’t know why. Perhaps it’s because you survived what happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes.”

Dorian stroked his mustache thoughtfully. “You can close the rifts,” he mused. “Maybe there’s a connection. Or maybe they see you as a threat.”

“If the Venatori are behind those rifts or the Breach in the sky, then they’re even more dangerous than I thought,” Felix said.

“All this for me?” Harriet said, facetiously. “And here I didn’t get Alexius anything.”

Dorian chuckled. “Just send him a fruit basket,” he recommended. “Everyone loves those. Anyway, you know you’re his target. Expecting the trap is the first step to turning it to your advantage. I can’t stay in Redcliffe. It’s too close to Alexius. But when you’re ready to face him, I want to be there.” He turned and walked away toward the back of the Chantry to sneak out of the village. He turned around briefly and looked towards Felix. “Oh and Felix, try not to get yourself killed,” he said.

“There are worse things than dying, Dorian,” he said as he too moved to leave the Chantry.  
****************************************************************************************** 

As soon as they were back in Haven, Harriet stopped to lean against the stone wall outside of Haven to massage her head. Redcliffe had turned from an opportunity into the worst sort of nightmare imaginable. Jason leaned against the stone next to her and made a similar expression, but he didn’t say anything. Part of her was grateful that he knew she needed some peace and quiet. But she also knew that he had been troubled by everything they had found in Haven. 

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“Not really,” he admitted. “I mean, what could Fiona have been thinking, indenturing every mage in the rebellion to the Tevinters? And then come to find out that this Magister is part of some crazy cult obsessed with you and that indenturing the mages is just a perk compared to what it’ll mean if he can kill you.”

“What would you do, if you were in my shoes?” she asked. “I honestly don’t know, myself. I think the mages deserve a chance at freedom, but mostly because I know that you, Garos, and Katheryn are all the sort who could be trusted with that kind of freedom. If you were the ones in charge, none of this would have happened.”

“Honestly,” Jason said, “If I were you, I would still offer the mages an alliance. Conscripting them can only lead to more strife among the mages themselves and there’s no guarantee that we would be any better at protecting the mages than the Chantry was when they had the Templars. And even if we could, the Veil being ripped open means that us mages are more vulnerable to possession anyway.”

“So we should offer them an alliance on the basis that we have no viable alternative and no way to come up with one since the Breach makes any such alternative moot?” Harriet asked.

“Do you disagree?” Jason asked. He wouldn’t mind if she did, anyone else would be completely justified in believing that the mages clearly couldn’t be trusted with their freedom.

“No,” she said slowly. “I just wonder how much we can trust the mages considering what they did when they were backed into a corner. Who knows what would have happened if we had decided to try and ally with the Templars instead? But I guess Leliana, Josephine, Cullen, and Cassandra have the final say in that.”  
******************************************************************************************

Jason stood in the war room next to his sister wondering how long they would pursue the circular arguments the advisors seemed to love so much. They had spent the past couple hours hashing out the pros and cons and the whys of getting the mages or the Templars. _If only there were two Heralds,_ he thought, _then we could just get both._ The argument hinged upon whether to send Harriet knowingly into a trap or to ally with Orlesian nobles to get the Lord Seeker to give the Templars to the Inquisition. Of the two plans, the Templars would certainly be easier, but Jason had yet to see anyone other than Cullen who actually believed that they could close the Breach.

Harriet chimed in every now and then, but had yet to offer an opinion on who they should pursue. As much as he understood why she deferred to her mentor, it was frustrating being in a room where no one could agree on anything.

Jason decided that it was a “drink away your troubles” kind of night and headed to the tavern. He was in the middle of his third drink when the great, rippling slab of muscle called Iron Bull entered laughing jovially and sat down next to him.

“Meeting go that badly, huh?” he asked, grinning at Jason. Jason replied by groaning into his mug. 

“See, this is why I’m glad I’m not in charge of anything but my boys,” Bull said. “Too much dealing with the little stuff. I’m at my best when I’m beating shit up, drinking with my boys, and knowing who they’re sleeping with.”

“I’m beginning to think that way of the war council,” Jason grumbled. “No offense to Seeker Cassandra or my sister, but they’re better at fighting than they are at leading.”

Bull hummed to himself. “Yeah, the problem with this Inquisition isn’t with the soldiers or the spies,” he said, “it’s at the top. There’s no leader; no Inquisitor.”

“Who would they choose?” Jason asked. “It can’t be Cullen, or Leliana, or Josephine.”

Bull grunted. “No, you’re right. Most would assume that one of them would lead, especially Cullen. And the Seekers of Truth, from what I gather, sounds a bit like the Ben-Hassrath. Cassandra’s too busy searching for answers to see the big picture and Harriet really only cares about making sure your family makes it out in one piece.”

Jason thought for a moment, taking another long drink from his mug. “Maybe I should be the one to lead,” he said. Maybe it was the alcohol talking (it was definitely the alcohol talking) but this sounded like a good idea to him.

Bull laughed and downed one of his own drinks. “Boss,” he said, “if you were sober that would be a good one.”  
******************************************************************************************

Harriet walked out to the training grounds to find Cassandra swinging away at one of the training dummies. After all these years, she still vented her frustrations in the same way. To be fair, the meeting was a stressful one. Harriet didn’t understand why the Inquisition’s leaders didn’t just decide on a course of action. She didn’t personally care at this point whether she was assigned to appeal to the mages or the Templars, but if they didn’t act soon, odds were that they would miss their chance to recruit either group at all. 

She walked up to Cassandra, who made her nearly signature disgusted noise.

“Frustrated?” she asked.

“You know me too well,” Cassandra replied. “What I have set in motion could tear down everything I have revered my whole life. One day they may write about me as a traitor, as madwoman, a fool, and they may be right.”

Harriet stood back to avoid getting struck by Cassandra’s venting. Training swords might be dull, but they definitely hurt if you weren’t careful. “You didn’t have any choice about it, Cassandra.”

“Didn’t I?” she replied. She swung her sword at the training dummy with all her might and it crumbled beneath her onslaught. With no other recourse, Cassandra threw her blade to the ground. 

“My trainers always said, ‘Cassandra, you are too brash. You must think before you act.’”

Harriet chuckled. “I can’t imagine why they would say that.”

Cassandra glared without any real fire. “You’ve been spending too much time with Varric,” she replied. “It’s a wonder you never became as grim and reckless as me.”

“You don’t want me as sour and dour as you,” Harriet said. “You need a counter point.”

Cassandra frowned. “Didn’t you get that from when Hawke said that to Aveline in Varric’s story?”

“Yes,” she admitted, “but you have to admit it fits here. I’m the one who stays behind and shoots people from a safe distance and you’re the one who charges headlong into danger.”

“I see what must be done and I do it,” Cassandra retorted. “I cannot sit around thinking like a dog chasing its tail, but even so, I cannot afford to be so careless again.”

Harriet laid a hand on her shoulder, on the woman as sturdy and unyielding as the metal and leather protecting her body. Did anyone ever realize just how much doubt the Seekers of Truth harbored, even as they projected surety and confidence into whatever they did? Would anyone ever realize that Cassandra, the Hero of Orlais, the Right Hand of the Divine held herself to such exacting standards? This woman, who had been a mother, a mentor, a comrade, and a friend to her throughout her adolescence, would always be her own harshest critic. “You know what I’m going to say.”

“The same as always,” Cassandra admitted. “I’m too hard on myself.” She sighed and drew her old pupil into a familiar embrace. “I know. Thank you.”


	25. Chapter 25

Jason decided that he really should stop expecting war council meetings to go smoothly. No one could agree on what to do. After some time debating whether to spring the trap waiting for them at Redcliffe Castle or to pursue the Templars at some backwater fortress in Ferelden, a possible solution for the Inquisition’s dilemma presented itself. Jason volunteered to lead a delegation to Redcliffe Castle on behalf of the Inquisition and bargain with the Magister for the custody of the mages. Leliana’s spies would sneak in and take out Alexius’s forces and take control of the negotiations.

This all seemed like a great idea a couple days ago. Now, as Jason looked towards the castle in the distance, he felt dread forming a cold pit in his stomach. Harriet, Cassandra, Garos, and Varric flanked him posing as his attaches. Whether Alexius would believe it or not was another matter. They entered the throne room and stopped in front of the steward and waited. A moment turned into a few and the expectant silence became awkward instead. Jason looked to Harriet, who seemed to be content to wait until the awkwardness overcame the steward and he decided to announce them. _That would be fine,_ Jason thought, _if we were really here to parley. Even then it wouldn’t do us any favors. But we’re a diversion. We need to get in there as soon as possible._

He stepped forward, looking first to Harriet, then to the steward. “Announce us,” he commanded, summoning every ounce of lordly authority he technically didn’t have.

The steward stammered for a bit as he looked between him and his twin. “The invitation was for Lady Trevelyan alone. The rest will wait here.”

Jason’s heart was hammering so hard that he was worried he might have a heart attack. He was now painfully aware of the fact that he wasn’t the Herald of Andraste, that he wasn’t invited to this event, and that he therefore didn’t have the authority to force the issue. He looked to his sister, the bespoke recipient of bespoke invitation. 

Harriet didn’t do anything for a moment until she merely spoke, “Where I go, they go.” She added a glare for good measure. The steward turned around to announce them.

 _A bit blunt,_ Jason thought, _but it worked._ He took the lead when Harriet neglected to make a show of being in charge. Jason took point as they ascended the stairs to the place where the slimy magister sat, a smug smile decorating his face as he looked down at the mortals before him.

“My friend,” the magister exclaimed, “so good to see you again! And your associates, of course.” He smiled as he stood. “I’m sure we’ll be able to come to arrangement equitable for all parties.”

Fiona, to her credit, was having none of it. “Are we mages to have no voice in deciding our fate?” she demanded.

Alexius turned his sickeningly charming smile to the elven woman. “Fiona, you would not have handed yourself and your followers over to my care if you did not trust me with their lives,” he crooned.

Garos pleaded silently with Jason. He nodded at his friend and said, “If Fiona wants to be part of these talks, then we welcome her as a guest of the Inquisition.” Fiona nodded as she thanked him.

Alexius turned and sauntered back to his throne. “So, the Inquisition needs the mages to close the Breach and I have them, so what shall you offer in exchange?”

Jason decided that he had had quite enough of this man and was out of patience to continue the ruse. “Nothing,” he declared, “I’m just going to take the mages and leave.”

“And how do you imagine you will accomplish such a feat?” Alexius countered.

“He knows everything, father,” Felix interjected.

“Felix,” Alexius’ voice hardened, “what have you done?”

It was at that point that Harriet finally decided to cooperate with the plan they had made. “You wanted me here. Why?” she demanded.

“Do you know what you are?” Alexius sneered. “You walk into my stronghold with your stolen mark, a gift you don’t even understand and think you’re in control?” He glared down at Harriet and her mark. “You’re nothing but a mistake.”

Felix came to their rescue once again. “Father, listen to yourself. Do you know what you sound like?”

“He sounds exactly like the sort of villainous cliché everyone expects us to be,” Dorian said, stepping dramatically out of the shadows on the side of the room.

Alexius turned his attention to this new person, having seemingly forgotten about his audience entirely. “Dorian. I gave you a chance to be a part of this. You turned me down,” Alexius drawled. “The Elder One has power you would not believe. He will raise the Imperium from its own ashes.”

That was interesting, Jason mused. “Who or what is this Elder One?” he asked. “Is he a mage?”

“Soon he will become a god,” he said in awe, “He will make the world bow to mages once more. We will rule from the Boeric Ocean to the Frozen Sea.”

“You can’t involve my people in this!” Fiona protested.

“Alexius,” Dorian pleaded, “this is exactly what you and I talked about never wanting to happen.”

“Stop this, father,” Felix begged, “Give back the castle, let the southern mages go, and let’s go home.”

“No,” Alexius whispered, so that Jason could barely hear. “This is the only way, Felix. He can save you.”

“Save me?” Felix scoffed. 

Alexius nodded and for a moment Jason saw past the religious, nationalistic zealotry and saw an old, desperate man. “There is a way. The Elder One promised, if I undo the mistake at the Temple…”

“I’m going to die,” Felix stated. “You need to accept that.” But it seemed that desperation was the only driving force behind Alexius’ hand.

“Seize them, Venatori,” he commanded, “The Elder One requires the Herald’s life.” No sooner had he given the order that he looked up in time to see his soldiers fall victim to Inquisition spies stabbing them in the backs and slitting their throats.

Jason walked toward the dais. “Your men are dead, Alexius,” he declared. _Amazing,_ he thought, _everything went according to plan and we’ll take the mages without a fuss and be back at Haven in time for dinner._

Just then Alexius set his face and raised his staff to cast a spell.

“You are a mistake,” he hissed at Harriet as his spell began, an amulet rising in response. Jason had just enough time to leap towards Harriet to protect her. “You should never have existed.”

Just as quickly, Dorian shouted, “No!” and reached out with his own magic and interrupted the spell. Harriet jumped forward to defend Jason, drawing her bow, too slow. The portal Alexius was forming shifted and Jason felt his stomach flip as if he were falling from a cliff. Everything went white.  
*******************************************************************************************************

Harriet “woke” when she landed in a room filled with water up to her knees. A quick, cursory glance at her surroundings indicated that Dorian and Jason had also been dragged through whatever spell Alexius had cast. She cursed silently for not paying close enough attention. She had let herself become overconfident when everything seemed to go to plan. And, as luck would have it, she had landed in a room with guards. 

“Blood of the Elder One,” one of them shouted.

“Where’d they come from,” the other replied as they attacked.

Harriet had just enough time to curse before they charged. The water meant she couldn’t backflip, which was her usual strategy when dealing with people with swords and the guards were too close for her to use one of her explosive arrows. She grabbed one of her sleep bombs and threw it in their faces. Just as she did, Jason cast a barrier around them and attacked in earnest. Dorian cast a fire glyph under them, and suddenly the room was filled with the smell of burning armor and flesh. It was nearly enough to make Harriet gag, but this wasn’t her first fight with mages. Dorian then sent some kind of purple energy flying into one of the panicked guards and Harriet took advantage of their confusion to pull her ironbark bow as far back as she could, taking a brief moment to feel proud of the honor of using her mother’s bow, and fired an arrow straight threw a guard’s heart. As he fell, he exploded, killing the other one and Harriet was suddenly grateful that she was far enough away from the guards that she wasn’t covered in gore.

“Displacement? Interesting,” Dorian mused as they collected themselves. “It’s probably not what Alexius intended. The rift must have moved us to, what? The closest confluence of magical energy?”

 _Why can’t time magic just make sense,_ Harriet wondered. “The last thing I remember we were in the throne room,” she said aloud.

“Let’s see… if we’re here,” Dorian said to himself, “it isn’t… Oh! Of course it’s not simply where it’s when! Alexius used the amulet as a focus. It moved us through time!”

Harriet’s blood chilled. “Did we go forward in time or back and how far?”

“Those are excellent questions,” he replied, seemingly completely unfazed by this turn of events. “We’ll have to find out, won’t we? Let’s look around, see where the rift took us. Then we can figure out how to get back… if we can.”

“What was Alexius trying to do,” Jason interjected. Of course, Harriet thought, annoyed. Trust Jason to ask about the theory of something when we’re in a life or death situation.

“I believe he was trying to remove Harriet from time completely,” Dorian said as he turned to her. “If that happened, you would never have been at the Temple of Sacred Ashes or mangled his Elder One’s plan. I think your surprise in the castle hall made him reckless. He tossed us into the rift before he was ready. I countered it. The magic went wild and here we are. Make sense?” 

Harriet shook her head. “It just seems so insane.”

“I don’t even want to think about what this will do to the fabric of the world,” Dorian agreed. “We didn’t so much travel through time as we punched a hole in it and toss it into the privy. But don’t worry. I’m here. I’ll protect you.”

Jason snorted. “Good luck with that. Harriet’s never needed protection in her life.”

Harriet scowled at Jason. “Focus, this is important,” she hissed. “There were others in the hall, where are they now?”

Dorian thought for a moment. “I doubt it was large enough to bring the whole room through,” he said. “Alexius wouldn’t risk catching himself or Felix in it. They’re probably still where and when we left them. In some sense, anyway.”

Jason stepped in. “Alexius mentioned an Elder One in the hall. Do you know what he was talking about?”

“The leader of the Venatori, I suspect,” Dorian replied smoothly. “Some magister aspiring to godhood. It’s the same old tune. ‘Let’s play with magic we don’t understand it will make us incredibly powerful.’ Evidently it doesn’t matter if you rip apart the fabric of time in the process.”

Jason nodded. “We’ll need to keep an eye out for any information about him for when we return to our time,” he said before cocking an eyebrow at the magnanimous Tevinter. “You have a plan to get us back, I hope?”

Dorian smiled. “I have some thoughts on that. They’re lovely thoughts. Like little jewels,” he said before growing serious, at last.

“Then let’s go,” Harriet said with growing aggravation.

“We’re right behind you, Harry,” Jason said.


End file.
